Isolde
by Artemis1292
Summary: This is a tale of adventure, romance, and betrayal. A story of knights and warriors, of battles and discovery. This is the account of how I died." Adreya aka Isolde oOo Tristan/oc ?/oc c2007
1. In which we begin

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything that is familiar to you, my own characters are and the storyline are mine however

**Author's Note:** Ello Ladies and Gents.. I apparently have a bad case of OCD, so while I attempt to think of something for ch. 6 and 7 I decided to go back and edit some of my previous chapters, this one in particular. Adreya might seem a tad Mary-Sueish but she'll grow out of that quickly! Enjoy and don't forget to review!

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**Prologue:** _We were doomed from the beginning, an ill-fated love that would end with dire consequences. This is a tale of adventure, romance, and betrayal, a story of knights and warriors, of battles and discovery, of a fight for freedom. This is the account of how I died." ~ Adreya (Isolde)_

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Guinevere moved stealthily through the misty forest; her long, slightly knotted ebony hair hung loosely down her back, swinging slightly as she stepped over a moss-covered log. With her skin still dyed the eerie blue color that aided in camouflaging her people, she had the appearance of a wood nymph. As she passed others of her kind they gave an automatic nod as a sign of respect to the daughter of their leader. Guinevere returned the gesture subconsciously each time, concentrating too hard on finding her elusive cousin to pay much attention to her surroundings. She sighed as her quest continued; where could that girl be? Though a brilliant warrior, excellent scout, and talented rider, the daughter of her father's long deceased sister could be the most infuriating and childish person in Britain; though, if you asked the girl in question, much the same could be said for the Woad princess.

Guinevere was more than frustrated now, she had been almost everywhere she could think of; her missing cousin was not with the horses, listening to the older warriors tell their tales, sharpening her weapons, or teasing the young children. She also wasn't in the meadow surrounded by old oaks, the caves they so often went exploring in, or in the crystal clear pond. A thought suddenly struck her, one last place to look before she gave in and sent out a search party. The young Woad made a split-second change of direction and began sprinting towards the river.

Upon reaching the ridge that overlooked the deep, smooth water, Guinevere slowed to a walk before descending down a narrow trail to the bank below. She immediately headed upstream, where in the distance, a waterfall rushed over a ledge and into a wide pool below. Quickening her pace to ajog, she hurried towards the waterfall, all the while searching the area for any sign of her cousin.

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The roaring of the waterfall blared in Guinevere's ears as she approached, finally seeing the slim, muscled form of her cousin. The young woman was standing waist deep in the water, facing the torrent of rushing water that fell from the cliffs above. The water surrounding her was a bright, unnatural blue in contrast to the clear liquid in the nearby area. Guinevere watched her cousin impatiently from the rocks as she completely submerged herself in the water, removing the last traces of blue dye from her lithe body. The Woad's dark hair, even darker from the water, hung to her waist like a dripping curtain, covering most of the visible tanned skin above the surface. She stayed in that position for a few minutes, her head thrown backwards, the moonlight reflecting off her damp face. Then she slowly turned to face Guinevere, a light smirk upon her visage, opening her eyes to reveal the grey-blue orbs within.

The dark-haired young woman stood there, her eyes burning into Guinevere's. The Woad princess matched her stare for nearly a minute before finally submitting and breaking her gaze with a much needed blink.

"Hurry up! He requests your presence immediately," Guinevere stated bluntly, traces of annoyance creeping into her voice as she observed the girl in the water.

The young woman blinked coyly at the disgruntled figure on the shore. "Oh, 'requests my presence' does he?" As she watched her cousin flex her hands in an attempt to control her anger, her mouth quirked into what may have been the beginnings of a smile before returning to its neutral position.

Guinevere sucked in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. Her nerves were frayed from her long search and the girl in front of her was definitely not helping. No, Guinevere suspected this was the girl's game, seeing how long it took for the elder cousin to blow her top. Guinevere didn't have time for this. Her father had sent her out hours ago in search for her 'missing' cousin, and seeing that it did not take the girl in question that long to bathe, even with a good swim in the process, Guinevere suspected that she had been following her around, laughing silently at her frustrations before slipping away to the secluded pool where she could feign innocence.

"Adreya!" Guinevere nearly shrieked. "You are to come out of there right now, it is a matter of great importance and father expected you hours ago."

"Aren't you going to say please?" Adreya asked sweetly, cocking her head to one side, and blinking up at Guinevere in faux innocence.

"Adreya!" This time Guinevere really did shriek, her normally elegant face contorted in anger.

Adreya barely concealed a grin as she exited the pool, water pouring off of her while she shook herself before slipping into her earthy, leather garments. She armed herself with practiced ease and began wringing out her long hair as she trod up the path to where her fuming cousin stood.

"Really, Guin, you should learn to control that temper of yours, it's not very becoming," Adreya commented as she passed her cousin.

At this Guinevere nearly throttled the other girl, her hands jumping and flexing as she took off after her, sprinting in the direction of the main camp.

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As both girls entered the clearing where the Woad leaders sat, Adreya slightly ahead of her cousin, Merlin, leader of the Woads as well as Adreya's uncle, turned towards them, his face schooled but his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Now that the two of you have finally decided to grace us with your presence," he began, shooting a look at his daughter as she began to open her mouth in reply, "there is a very important matter that must be discussed with the both of you."

All signs of immature behavior vanished from the youngest inhabitants of the clearing. Adreya stepped forward, her face serious, and, getting straight to the point, asked, "What's the matter?"

Merlin held his hands up to pacify his niece before turning and walking back over to the fire, throwing some dry logs onto the dying flames as he sat down. Guinevere and Adreya followed silently, seating themselves on the other side of the growing warmth.

"As both of you know, the Romans, with the aid of Arthur and his knights, have defeated us several times in the past months. Not only that, but they have been expanding, adding to their fort at Badon Hill and the surrounding area. We need information on these expansions and what important individuals from Rome will be arriving and departing."

He stopped for a moment letting his words sink into the young women across from him before continuing. By the looks on both girls' faces they knew, or at least suspected what he would be asking of them.

"The Elders and I have discussed this and we have come to an agreement. One of you must disguise yourself as a Roman lady and live at the fort for a time. Your mission will be to find out the things we need and then report periodically to the other."

Merlin left it at that for the time being; the girl who would go to the fort would be briefed later on. For the moment he was content to just let them think a bit.

"Who?" came the whispered question.

Merlin looked over at his niece. The normally strong, fierce warrior was pale-faced and was gripping the handle of one of her knives tightly in her hands.

Merlin sighed. He had foreseen she would be like this. Adreya would have suspected from the start that she would be the one. He kept silent, observing her. Guinevere was also looking at her, a slight frown marring her features.

"Who?" The question came again, more forcefully than before.

The leader of the Woads braced himself as he looked into her wary eyes and softly answered, "We, no, I, had hoped that you would, given past circumstances."

He gave a sigh of defeat as she sprang up and made her way out of the clearing, heading deeper into the surrounding woods.

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Adreya sat in the shade of one of the many towering oaks in the forest. Her muscled arms were tightly wrapped around her body as she huddled against the bark of the ancient tree. 'I should have known,' she thought to herself, over and over again. 'I knew my past would catch up with me, but why this?' It wasn't the danger of the mission, nor the thought of Arthur and his famous knights. She had faced them in battle often enough, and had enough scars to prove it. It was amazing even to Guinevere, that having faced them so many times, Adreya remained for the most part unscathed, at least compared to others. Of course, there was the fact that she often fought from the trees, being a skilled archer. Also there was the fact that the knights were not as terrifying and all powerful as many of her people believed. She herself had killed one of them only the year before. He had been about to take Guin's head off as the princess parried with one of the Romans, but Adreya had gotten to him first. She found, looking back, that he was the only man she had ever felt sorry for killing. She had stood over him for a minute, after she had plunged her long knife into his body, as he lay there on the ground, dark brown hair fanning out about his face, dull brown, sightless eyes staring into oblivion. A moment of sorrow had passed over her before she had been swept back into the battle, nearly loosing her own life when one of the dead man's brethren bore down upon her, his rage making him twice as deadly. Then there had been the knight many years before who had shown her a kindness she could not understand for several years after…

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_A young girl, perhaps of nine summers, ran through the sunlit forest. It was springtime, and being young and new to the forest, she was naïve to the dangers around her, thinking herself safe, that nothing could, or would, harm her. She danced through the trees and brush; occasionally plucking a colorful wildflower that caught her eye. Her newly discovered uncle and cousin had warned her not to wander far before she slipped away from the encampment, but she only wanted to explore a bit, something she had never been allowed to do before. A dark look crossed the innocent child's face before passing just as quickly. She would not think of it anymore; from the moment she had escaped them she had promised herself she would only look to the future, no more looking back. The young girl shook herself, as if expelling the unwanted thoughts and memories from her body, before continuing her romp through the forest. She eventually came to a pretty glade with a clear little pond in the center, rimmed by weeping willows. Looking closely at the other side of the glade, she was surprised to see that she was closer to the edge of the wood than she thought, for just beyond a grouping of smaller trees she could see the open fields that surrounded the forest, and in the distance she thought she could see a section of the great wall. Though curious, the little girl was not altogether stupid, and did not cross to the other side to get closer to the edge of the wood, contenting herself with going to the rim of the pond, though every now and then her eyes glanced at the empty expanse beyond the trees. Her eyes continued to flicker towards the world beyond hers, till finally, she stood and began walking towards the edge, albeit timidly. She was nearly there when she felt a sudden, shooting pain race through her ankle and on up her leg, and her world turned upside down._

_The little girl didn't know how long she had been hanging there, suspended in the air by a thick rope ensnared about her right ankle. As she woke from her pain-induced slumber she was not for the first time glad that she was allowed to wear a tunic and leggings rather than the constricting dresses that they had forced her to dress in. She was brought completely back to her senses by the pain that laced through her leg; it burned like fire, her leg muscles screaming in agony. She whimpered but did not cry out. It was too dangerous this close to the edge of the forest. She bit her lip until it bled, a dribble of red liquid running down her face, partly concealed by her dark hair._

_As she drifted in and out of consciousness, the little girl imagined, or thought she imagined, the sound of hooves rumbling over the plain beyond the edge of the woods. She imagined she heard them slowing down, eventually coming to a stop nearly parallel to her current position, and that she heard male voices shouting strange sentences that seemed muddled and improperly ordered, the traces of conversation making her head buzz._

_She was content to stay there, the wind swaying her back and forth, the pain a dull throb, listening to her phantom voices. When she heard the quiet footfalls on the grass and the muffled curse, she thought nothing of it, thinking it only one of her 'ghosts'._

_Unimaginable pain shot through her leg once more, and before passing out completely, she felt herself being held in strong, warm arms and being carried somewhere._

_The little girl awoke sometime later, her vision still hazy and her head pounding, while her right leg ached like nothing else. The smell of wood smoke rushed into her nose as she inhaled, and looking about, she caught sight of a small campfire to her left. There appeared to be no one around so she tried to move her leg, only to gasp as tears came to her eyes from the pain. She whipped her head around, and there coming out of the darkness was a tall figure. As he, for it was definitely a male, came into the firelight, she took in a quick observation of his face, clothing, and weapons. He had a somewhat wild look to him, as if he spent most of his time in the wilderness, yet he was unlike the Woads, her people. He was tall, and was perhaps in his late teens, though she couldn't be sure. He was dressed in a simple tunic and leggings, with leather armor for protection. He carried a bow on his back as well as a wickedly curved blade and a large collection of knives varying in size and shape. While she admired his weapons and the wildness and strangeness of him, his eyes were what captured her the most. Even at such a young age, the unfathomable depth of his gaze was alluring and she could not help but stare into the dark pools. She broke eye contact abruptly as he sat down near her, watching her intently but saying nothing. They sat in silence for a while, soundlessly taking in each other's appearance. The little girl was starting to doze off when she was startled by the sound of his voice._

"_How did you come to be caught in my snare, Little Woad?" the intriguing man asked, settling himself more comfortably on the ground._

_The little girl straightened up a bit and beamed as he called her a Woad. His eyes twinkled at this, but he made no other signs that he noticed. She immediately started telling him about the day, how she'd been running through the forest, had seen the pond, had wanted to see what lay beyond the trees, and suddenly had been pulled by her feet. The man sat in silence the whole time, cracking a smile whenever she got carried away in her childish giddiness. She finally wound down, slightly out of breath, and cocking her head to the side, asked, "Who are you?"_

_The young man smirked and replied, "I am a knight, and you?"_

_She countered in the same fashion, "I am a Woad."_

_At this both the little girl and the young warrior cracked identical grins, something the girl was certain was not a regular occurrence for her mysterious companion. The knight mutely handed her some dried meat to chew on, his face once more unexpressive, though his eyes still shone with amusement. The girl accepted the meat and chewed contently while the man crouched beside her, examining her injured leg as best he could without causing her much pain._

_She hissed softly as he tried to lift her leg. The knight looked at her a moment before focusing once more on her injured limb. Once he had finished he stood fluidly and walked to where he had been seated before, fetching cloth, two sticks, and a metal bar covered with a strip of worn leather. He crouched beside her once more and put the items on the ground before glancing at her curious face._

"_You are brave, Little Woad," he said, smiling slightly before continuing. "Many a grown man would have been yelling and cursing had they experienced the same pain you have. Unfortunately I am no healer, though I am fairly certain your ankle is broken. I am going to have to brace the bone."_

_He said it bluntly, but sensing he was a man of very few words, the girl felt honored that he had spoken so many for her._

"_All right," she said, whispering her consent and preparing herself for more pain._

_The young knight handed her the metal bar, obviously something for her to bite on, which she immediately placed in her mouth, biting down hard, and clenching her fists. She didn't know how long it took, only that it hurt, and there were several occasions when she only stayed conscious through sheer will. At any rate it was done, and she was left trembling in his arms as he comforted her, another thing she suspected was seldom for him to do._

"_Brave Little Woad, so brave," he cooed softly, keeping her limp form warm, as she lay collapsed against him. She drifted off soon, thankful for the bliss of unconsciousness against the never-ending pain._

_She woke the next morning, her mysterious knight off to the side, packing up his things and concealing them under some brush. He looked over, sensing she was awake._

"_My companions are returning soon, I need to get you closer to your people."_

_She nodded at his statement and waited while he finished. Once the knight was satisfied with his work, he walked over to her and, after looking at her leg for a moment, bent down and scooped her up, her small body weighing nothing to a man who was used to carrying armor and weapons. The knight set off deeper into the forest at a leisurely pace that was quick at the same time. Deeper and deeper he strode as the day wore on. Sometimes the little girl thought she saw a blue-skinned form drift into the shadows, but no one bothered the lone knight. Eventually he came to a clearing surrounded by tall, ancient, oaks, and set her down gently, resting her back against one of the trees. She looked up at him, almost wishing he didn't have to leave. Looking down at her, the knight smiled softly, and, reaching into his tunic, brought out a sheathed knife with a leather cord wrapped around it and pressed it into one of her hands. He placed his fist over his heart in a salute before melting into the shadows of the forest. The little girl looked down at the knife and realized that the leather cord was a necklace that bore a single charm, a hawk, exquisite and beautiful. The blade of the knife she saw was adorned with symbols and elegant lines. She looked back up, shocked at the stunning gifts, but other than the objects in her hands and the splint about her leg, there was no sign that the knight even existed. She went back to examining the knife, and stayed that way until a search party discovered her on their way back to the main encampment._

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Adreya was brought out of her reverie by the quiet rustling of leaves that signaled her cousin's approach. Guinevere waited beside her as she stood stiffly, brushing dirt and leaves off of her clothes and legs. She smiled at her cousin, and Adreya returned the gesture. They headed off in the direction of camp. For a moment the moonlight shone brightly, revealing a delicate hawk charm on a worn leather cord around Adreya's neck, before the pair disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

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Merlin was the only person left in the clearing when the cousins returned. He was sitting in front of the fire, staring into the dancing flames, as he waited for the girls to sit down. The three sat in silence for a few minutes before Adreya broke the calm with a soft whisper, "I'll do it."

The Woad leader looked up slowly, until his wise older eyes were staring into her fierce ones, the eyes that reminded him so much of his spirited sister. In his heart, Merlin had known she would accept the mission regardless of the past, the pain she had undergone because of her father's family. It was a good thing they had saved her when they had, otherwise there might not have been anything left to save, and now they were throwing her back to the wolves. As satisfied as he was that she had relented without much of a fuss, he was also worried; even now, after so many years, there was still a shadow in her bright gaze, a sadness and pain that would not disappear, no matter how happy she was. He wished he could find a way to bring the spark back completely, to make her whole on both the inside and the outside, and he was afraid that this mission would do more harm than good, at least for her. But there was no other way, both he and the two young women before him knew it. No other Woad could pass off as being a Roman as she could. She was the one who had to go.

Merlin gave a slight nod to his daughter, and Guinevere stood and walked away, placing a hand on Adreya's shoulder as she passed her. Uncle and niece sat for a few moments longer, enjoying each other's company as well as the night itself. Then Merlin looked at her again and began to fill her in on the more detailed information she would need.

"We have a few Roman dresses of fine enough quality from a raid a while back," he began. "You will be escorted to the outskirts of a Roman settlement, and from there you must find transport to Badon Hill. You will need to come up with a good cover story, and you already have a Roman name, so you don't have to come up with one for yourself."

Merlin paused a moment before continuing with a long list of what he expected her to attain, how she would contact Guinevere, and finally how she would be 'escaping', as it were, from the fort when the time came.

Once he had finished, Merlin stood and left Adreya to her thoughts. He had done all he could; the rest was up to her. He only hoped that she would return from this mission unharmed, physically and mentally.

Adreya did not know how long she remained in the clearing after her uncle had left, only that her limbs were stiff and numb with cold when she came to her senses and got up to leave. She had to decide what she would be able to bring on the mission and get her things together, for they would be leaving within the next few days and she wanted to be ready to go at a moment's notice.

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The days following Adreya's agreement to the mission were hectic and filled with an unusual amount of disorder. Both men and women could be seen dashing through the main camp making preparations, as well as running deeper into the forest, acting as messengers for Merlin.

During this time, Merlin sent several Woad women to Guinevere and Adreya, supplying each of them with clothing and other things they might need, Adreya more so than her cousin.

Adreya had been given a small compilation of Roman dresses. She sat among the dull greens, reds, and blues, her fingers absentmindedly running over the thick, slightly coarse, familiar, fabric. Not for the first time, unbidden, unwanted memories, shot though her head…

_A small dark-haired girl skipped though a flourishing flower garden. She was clothed in a billowing dark red gown and was an image of happiness at the age of four summers. A shadowed pair walked gracefully behind the child, moving at a leisurely pace, their arms entwined. The young girl ran back to the slower pair, laughing when the slimmer figure scooped her up in her arms. The little girl raised her eyes toward the figure's face and…_

Adreya found herself blinking up at Merlin. He was staring down at her, a hint of concern in his kind eyes. She suppressed a sigh of disappointment. She had almost seen the figure's face, she had never come that close before.

"Are you all right child?" her uncle asked. Merlin was worried about the girl. These 'spells' were becoming more frequent and lasting longer. She would sometimes sit for almost half an hour, staring off into the distance, her eyes glazed over, seeing nothing but the images inside her mind.

Adreya peered up at her uncle. She could hear the worry in his voice and read it in his eyes. The young Woad looked down a moment before nodding silently, refusing to meet Merlin's gaze. She knew that he and Guinevere were worried about her; the concerned glances they shot her way whenever they thought she wasn't looking told her that. Truthfully, Adreya wasn't sure why she had accepted this mission. It would only lead to pain, so why did she agree so easily? Perhaps it was because she wanted revenge on them. Maybe she wanted her people to finally be able to drive them back. Regardless of the reason, she had accepted and was now bound to complete it.

Adreya felt an old, yet still strong, hand grasp her shoulder, silently telling her that it was time. She rose slowly, Merlin already disappearing around a corner. All of her things were packed up and tied onto her makeshift saddle.

Normally Adreya preferred to ride bareback, to feel her stallion's rippling muscles and untamed power. It made her feel as if she were one with her horse, free to run tirelessly as long and as far as she desired.

Wistful dreams, she thought, sighing, not for the first time that day as she buckled on her sword, long knives, daggers, and quiver, lastly slinging her bow over her shoulder.

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Adreya walked silently through the Woad camp. It was unusually quiet, the normal sounds missing, even the children were hushed. The silence was unnerving to her. Normally she preferred the calm of solitude to the noisy bustle of the main camp, but this quiet was disconcerting and out of place.

She was almost relieved when she finally made it to the other side of the encampment where Guinevere and the Woads that would be accompanying them to the small Roman outpost were waiting. Adreya mounted her steel grey stallion, Aherin, and the small group of riders, after saluting their people, whirled their horses and took off at a gallop.

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Adreya let the smooth, rocking, motion of Aherin's stride, and the light misting rain take over her senses as they sped through the dense forest on invisible paths. In front of her were Cuan, on his tough little mare, Mairsile, and Keegan, with his small, tawny gelding, Oisin. Guinevere rode beside her on her delicate grey mare, Liadan. Bringing up the rear were Bronagh, on her midnight black mare, Ciara, and Eber, on his bay stallion Daithi.

Each of the Woads in the company had proven himself time and again in battle, and Adreya wondered why her uncle had sent so many when, besides Guinevere, two would have more than sufficed. She absentmindedly shook some of her damp hair out of her face and leaned in closer to Aherin's neck, shielding herself from the force of the wind that had suddenly picked up, and drawing comfort from his heat.

The six Woads continued riding far into the night, only stopping when even the strongest of the horses could not go much further. Adreya, Guinevere, Cuan, and Keegan huddled by the small, smokeless fire they had built, while Bronagh took first watch, and Eber disappeared into the nearly impenetrable darkness in search of food.

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The next morning shone bright and clear; the dark, stretching branches and thin spears of grass sparkled with drops of water, while the sun sent deep pinks and oranges across the pale sky. Adreya was on watch, lounging in the fork of a sturdy tree, her silvery eyes constantly scanning the forest below. She exhaled gently, her breath causing a cloud of white mist to form in the chilly air.

As the warming rays of the sun spread across the quiet lands, she regretfully swung herself out of the tree. How long would it be before she could have the luxury of climbing trees again? It was one of the many activities that were looked down upon by the Romans, at least for girls.

She bit back a curse of frustration, not wanting to wake her sleeping companions too early. Everyone had to make sacrifices in order to get rid of the Romans, and if hers was no fun or adventure for a few months, or even a year, she would bear her burden gladly, for the sake of her people. Even if it meant going back to them, she could, and would sacrifice her happiness for her people, and for her land.

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**Author's Note:** Here you are again. Don't forget, I love reviews and suggestions!


	2. In which we become someone else

**A/N:** Hello readers! Back again with my newest chapter. as i said before, i have to rewrite everything, and as i was rewriting this piece I got a great idea about how to get Adreya to the, well let's call it a checkpoint so i don't give anything away. Anyway, i had suddenly realized that though the Woads would be able to cross a giant wall, there is no way a horse could, so that stumped me for a bit, but never fear! i have fixed the problem, and other various issues that were rather silly. So now I am finished babbling and I'll let you get reading. If you have any questions or comments feel free to review, i ALWAYS love reviews :) ok, i'm finished, really! ENJOY!

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The small troop of Woads had been traveling for five days. As of yet there had been no trouble, in fact, their journey could almost have been called peaceful if not for the feeling of foreboding and the tense silence, only broken by the beating of the horses hooves on the hard ground and the occasional bird call.

Guinevere would now and again spare a quick glance at her cousin, but the other woman only stared straight ahead, her eyes focused on the path before them.

The Woad princess was worried for Adreya. The only times she ever saw the light return to her eyes was when she was galloping on Aherin, chasing the wind, or when she held a deadly weapon in her hands. She needed to find something to bring her cousin back before it was too late, if it were not already.

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When camp was finally made that night there was no fire. They were now close enough to the wall that they could not risk it. While two of their companions went hunting and the others either took care of the horses or kept watch, Adreya and Guinevere huddled together and planned ahead for the next few days, the most critical in the first part of the scheme.

"Here," said Guinevere, pointing at a section of the rough sketch she had drawn in the dirt as a map of the area, "is where we will cross the Wall. There is a small stream in the area that runs under the Wall. Bronagh will stay with the horses on this side and the rest of us will cross with the packs. While I am helping you get ready Cuan will keep watch while Eber and Keegan scout the road. There is a fortified Roman town about 3 miles up the road from where you cross, that is your destination."

Adreya sat back on her heels and studied the map that her cousin had drawn. So far the plan sounded good, too good in fact.

"One small problem cousin," Adreya said, unconsciously biting her lip as she looked up from the dirt, "I highly doubt it would be natural for a Roman lady, or a Roman woman of any station for that matter, to be unescorted anywhere near the Wall."

Guinevere scowled at her cousin, who was now grinning cheekily at her. Leave it to Adreya to point out the one flaw in her plan.

"We'll overcome that obstacle when we come to it," She replied, standing abruptly and walking over to where she had hobbled Liadan, "for now just take care of Aherin and then get some sleep."

Adreya followed her cousin grumbling about know-it-all princesses before removing her gear and rubbing the sweat marks out of Aherin's dark grey coat.

Once Aherin had been properly taken care of, Adreya laid down near her cousin on the soft, mossy floor of the forest. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the inky sky with its thousands of glittering lights. This would be one of the last nights she would be able to do this, to relax under the stars with Guinevere near by to talk to in hushed whispers. She released a long breath as her eyes roamed the twinkling stars through the branches of the ancient trees above her. She could here Aherin snuffling around a few feet away, sniffing about for one last choice nibble before he dozed off. Cuan and Bronagh were sitting in one of the trees and Eber had returned from his hunt a little while before, a brace of rabbits in his hands. Keegan was asleep across from Guinevere, his watch was next.

Adreya's eyes were closed more often then open now. She was tired, she needed the sleep. Guinevere was right, as always, Adreya thought with a sleepy smile, as she drifted off into oblivion, lulled to the land of dreams by the chirping of the crickets, the hooting of an owl, and the soft snorting and muffled movements of the six horses in the campsite.

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Once again, Adreya had watch in the hours before down, thus she was the first to welcome the new day, her last day of freedom, as they would reach their destination by evening and cross the Wall in the dead of night.

It had been two days since she and Guinevere had made their plan with a map made of dirt, and the doubts were beginning to sink in. What if the were caught? What if they ran into a legion of Romans? What if the guards at the town became suspicious?

Adreya grit her teeth and narrowed her eyes. Now was not the time to have doubt in her cousin, or herself for that matter.

Quickly going about the camp, Adreya woke the others before hurrying to Aherin and tacking him up. Within half an hour they had eaten and were back on their horses, running the last leg of their journey.

Several hours later they slowed to a walk. Stealth was necessary so close to the Wall. Not 20 minutes past the group had frozen at the sudden clanking of metal and the telltale red of the Romans as a pair of guards had walked atop the stonework, 25, maybe 30 feet from where they rode.

Eventually the six Woads reached the stream Guinevere had pointed out. They immediately dismounted and began preparing for the crossing of the Wall.

Adreya took the various satchels containing her Roman belongings from Aherin and stacked them in a pile under an Elm. It was far more clothes and items than she felt comfortable having, but it was necessary for her role. Guinevere joined her after a bit and they sat together waiting for the cover of darkness.

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After darkness had set in, not the faint, grayish, dark that appears after dusk, but the true, deep dark that is only illuminated by the stars and the moon, the company set out once more, creeping quietly as ghosts in the night. All but Bronagh, who stood with the horses, climbed the large stone wall the divded their land into two sections.

The place that Guinevere had decided on was really quite convenient for their mission. It was a crossroads of sorts. The main road traveled along the Wall, heading towards the fort at Badon Hill in the direction they had come from, and towards the coast in the direction they had been going. At the crossing point that the Woad princess had chosen another road, heading deeper into Roman territory, met this main road, and, with a bit of luck, this could work to their advantage.

Once the five Woads were safely on the other side of the Wall, Eber and Keegan set out in opposite directions along the main road to scout while Cuan stood guard and the two women headed down to the stream. Guinevere all but pushed her grimacing cousin into the icy water and thrust small chunk of soap into her hands before turning to rummage trough the sacks of clothes and other items.

Adreya stared down at the lumpy, beige colored substance in her hands before raising an eyebrow at the other Woad and asking incredulously, "Where in the world did you get this?"

Guinevere turned back around with a shrug before setting her jaw, "I have no idea, and yes you are going to use it, now hurry up, we haven't got all night and there are still things we need to discuss."

Adreya rolled her eyes, but began stripping off her worn pieces or leather that served as both clothes and a sort of armor. Sometime later she was suitably clean; her skin washed free of dirt and remnants of blue dye, her hair free of twigs and not greasy anymore. Guinevere helped Adreya wring out her long hair before throwing a billowing piece of linen, upon further observation turning out to be a shift, over her damp head. Next came the outer layer of the dress, a dark colored piece of fabric that hugged her body and swirled around her legs when she moved.

"It's red, in case you're wondering," came Guinevere's voice from behind her as she felt nimble hands lacing up the back of the dress, "the Romans seem to adore that color so I thought it would help." She continued with a dry laugh.

Next the Woad princess took out delicate looking comb made from the bones of some animal. She began to carefully comb through her cousin's dark locks, trying to be as gentle as possible, though from the intakes of breath, muttered curses, and clenched fingers of the young woman, it was obviously not working. Finally she was finished with her tedious task, Adreya's hair hanging in smooth waves down her back as it finished drying.

Guinevere handed her cousin a pair of soft leather boots before walking back up the slope to where Cuan still stood as guard to wait for the return of the scouts.

Adreya slipped on the boots and rolled her shoulders about stretching and trying to get used to the feel of the fabric covering her body. It wasn't as if she had never worn a dress before. Nearly all Woad women wore dresses at the various celebrations of their culture, though their dresses were far different than that of the Romans'. Woad dresses were light and flowy, and not nearly so long, leaving the wearer free to run and leap about during dances. And, of course, she had worn dresses with _them_, but that was something she would rather not think about since she would be reminded of is every day for the next year of so. The young Woad sighed quietly as she brushed her long hair back over her shoulders and knelt by the clear water, staring at her reflection in the moonlit stream. Only thing remained of her former appearance, the small hawk charm that still hung from her neck from so long ago. It had become scratched and worn down from years of fighting and rubbing its small metal body for comfort. She frowned at her reflection, she looked so utterly, _Roman_. She growled slightly at the image in the water before sweeping her hand into the cool liquid and disturbing the mirror like qualities of the water.

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By the time Adreya was completely finished preparing and had returned to stand with Guinevere and Cuan the sky was beginning to lighten. Eber had returned only minutes after she had reached the crest of the hill and his report was worrying, though it also presented another opportunity. Apparently there was a small company of Roman soldiers marching towards them from the direction of Badon Hill. They were still aways off, but Guinevere decided to find suitable hiding places as they waited for Keegan, just in case. The four of them were just finishing when their fifth companion came running up the road with more news. A Roman caravan was traveling up the road from the Coast towards them, from what he had been able to see, there were a number of guards, a driver, and some passengers in a carriage with the curtains drawn, though he thought he had heard at least one female voice over the ruckus the rest of the escort was making. With this new bit of information Guinevere began planning a new strategy to get her cousin safely into the hands of the Romans.

Adreya watched warily as Guinevere face took on the look of someone who had just thought of an ingenious plan that would have a humorous effect. She had seen that look many a time before when the mischievous princess had been planning pranks on the Elders and other lesser liked members of the clan, and normally such pranks had ended badly for her. When Guinevere finally turned towards her Adreya nearly winced at the gleeful look in her cousin's eyes.

"Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this plan of yours?" Adreya asked, putting her head in her hands.

Guinevere merely smiled wider and asked, "How's your acting?"

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The plan was ingenious. Dangerous, humiliating, but ingenious.

The company of soldiers that was coming from the one direction would reach the Woads faster than the caravan, seeing as they were closer and did not have a heavy carriage slowing them down. When the soldiers reached the Woads they would be ambushed by the six Woads (Bronagh would secure the horses and shoot from the Wall, and Adreya would also shoot so as to not destroy her dress). Once the company was destroyed the Woads would wait for the caravan to approach. When it was within sight Adreya would then run screaming towards it, telling her 'saviors' about how she was being escorted to the nearby town by the soldiers, how they had been ambushed by the 'terrible', 'ruthless', 'vile' creatures, and how her horse had run off, though luckily her luggage had been carried by some of the soldiers. Then the Romans would attack Guinevere and the others who would escape over the Wall. After that Adreya would be taken into the care of her 'rescuers'.

This of course was if everything went according to plan, and as much as she dreaded the idea of running towards the Romans screaming like a witless damsel, Adreya prayed to the gods that they succeeded.

Sooner than she would have liked the telltale signs of feet stomping along the dirt roads and the clanking of armor and weapons filled the air as their quarry approached. Adreya hands tighted on the smooth wooden curve of her bow and she exchanged a feral grin with her cousin who was clutching an equally deadly pair of fighting axes.

'Let the fun begin' She thought, drawing an arrow from the quiver on her back and notching the end to the taunt string of the weapon.

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Guinevere wiped the blades of her axes on the grass. The fight had been finished quickly, but had been rough. Half the company had been brough down by the arrows of Bronagh and Adreya. The rest had been engaged by the remaining Woads in a quick skirmish of spinning blades, clashing metal, sliced flesh, bones shattered, the spray of blood, and the screams of dying men.

Keegan sported a black eye and a busted lip, and Eber had a minor cut on his arm, but other than that the Woads had suffered no major injuries. All to soon the caravan came into view in the distance and Guinevere came up beside Adreya putting a hand on her shoulder.

"You might want to put some blood on your dress, it will make it seem more likely that you were in the middle of a battle."

Adreya shrugged but did as her cousin suggested, smearing blood onto the skirt and sleeves of her dress. When she was finished Guinevere walked over to her once more and embraced her.

"I will contact you as soon as it is safe, and don't worry, it'll be over in just year, and before you know it you'll be back in the woods, killing more Romans and making me search for you for hours on end."

"You know Guinevere, you're not great at the sentimental stuff are you?" Adreya asked, a smile twitching at the edges of her mouth.

"Oh, get going Dreya, I'll miss you."

"And I you."

Adreya turned and breathed in deeply before glaring at her grinning cousin.

Then she faced the caravan once more and prepared to take off running, and screaming like a banshee.

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The head guard of the caravan was watching the surrounding country side careful. Just minutes before he had heard shouting and screams, but so far had come upon nothing unusual. Just as he finished that thought fresh screams arose, what sounded like a female screaming this time. He and his men halted and looked in the direction of the sound and suddenly beheld a dark-haired woman clad in a burgundy red dress running towards them screaming.

"Help! Help me! Oh Lord Almighty! Please help me!"

The Roman guard whipped his horse into a gallop and raced towards the hysterical woman, followed by his men and the ungainly carriage.

The head guard reached the distressed maiden first, leaping off his horse and catching her slight frame in his arms as she collapsed sobbing. The hem of her russet was soaked from the morning dew and there were several dark stains, that looked suspiciously like blood, staining the rich fabric.

"What's the matter miss?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"M...my party wa...was att...attacked!" She blubbared through her heaving sobs.

"Where! Where m'lady?" He asked urgently as the carriage finally rolled up to them.

The distraught young woman was only ably to point behind her where the guard could suddenly see several figures and the glint of the sudden sunlight on a naked blade. The grizzly Roman quickly through open the door to the carriage, from which issued to surprised femine gasps.

"Stay in here m'lady, we'll protect you and save your belongings."

The door was slammed shut again leaving the occupants in gloomy darkness as the Roman captain began issuing orders, leading his men in a charge at the small group of Woads at the top of the hill.

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Adreya barely refrained from rolling her eyes as she listened to the faint sounds of horses galloping and men shouting. Fake tears still poured down her face as she lay on the floor of the carriage. 'we'll protect you and save your belongings'? please she thought to herself, if it were not for the plan they would already be dead, and who says they will save someone's belongings? What good are clothes and trinkets to a dead man or woman?

When she had begun running away from her cousin and fellow Woads, Adreya had begun screaming and shouting for help at the top of her lungs. It had not taken the Romans long to figure out something was wrong after that, the idiots. They had welcomed the 'helpless' young maiden with open arms, fools for a few tears and a pretty face, and now she was safely inside a stuffy Roman carriage while her cousin and friends led the Romans on a merry chase.

Suddenly remembering the other occupants of the carriage, Adreya looked up from her position on the floor. Above her was a pair of frightened women. One was an elderly woman with crinkles in her skin and a firm look in her eyes, this, Adreya decided, did not look like a woman easily swayed. The other was a delicate looking girl, perhaps Adreya's age, perhaps a little younger. She was thin and pasty white, with long, pale golden hair, and an overall unhealthy look, someone not suited to the wildness of Briton.

Before a word could be spoken between the three women the door was once again thrown open by the captain who now had a grim smile across his visage.

"The remaining Woads have turned and fled m'lady, there is nothing to fear now, and all of your luggage was safely recovered. If there is no objection from any my ladies, I would like you to accompany our caravan, we are heading to a town not three miles down the road..."

"Well of course she'll accompany us!" The tough looking elder-woman interrupted the captain, "poor love, look at her, she's all pale and shaking. The lady will accompany us to the town at the very least, if not the rest of our journey. Put her baggage with ours and let us be moving!" She was firm in her commands and the captain quickly did as he was ordered.

Adreya tried not to grin. This was a woman she thought she would enjoy being with. Had she been born a Woad this old woman would have been quite the commander.

Once again the carriage began moving with an uncomfortable jolting, rocking motion that nearly sent Adreya sprawling had not the old woman caught her in time. The woman was surprising strong for her apparent age and easily hefted the Woad onto the seat opposite the frail looking girl and herself.

"Now dearie, as soon as we reach our destination we'll fix a nice cup of tea, that'll calm you down right quick." the old woman said in a motherly tone, patting Adreya on the knee.

"That must have been terribly frightening!" the pale girl explained, speaking for the first time. Her cornflower blue eyes, the most lively feature on her pallid face, were dancing with excitement as she stared at the newest occupant.

"Yes, terribly." Adreya replied softly, pretending to look out a crack in the curtains as she studied the pair across from her out of the corner of her eye.

The old woman was as she had first appraised, grumpy looking with a stubborn gleam in her eyes. Adreya fought back a chuckle as the image of an old mule, or even a grizzled old bear came to mind. No, this would not be a woman to cross. Probably even the knights would cower below her. She wore plain clothes, though the clothe was of fine enough material. She was probably a servant, or nursemaid, if she served the lady beside her.

Now Adreya turned her gaze to the old woman's presumed charge. She was very frail looking, like a delicate flower. She wore a powder blue silk dress that compliment her pasty features and yellow hair, and brought out the vibrance in her eyes. Her eyes, they were brighter than sparkling gemstones on her fingers and ears. She was the kind of person you would easily look over in a crowd, and yet the sapphire orbs drew you in, made you look twice. They brought life to her pale body. She had a soft smile on her face as she stared openly at Adreya, curious about the strange lady they had rescued.

"Oh!" The old woman's sudden exclamation brought Adreya out of her musings. "How rude of me! We have not made our introductions! My name is Ambrosa and this is my charge, Lady Juliana."

The frail girl, Juliana, smiled at Adreya who hestitantly returned the gesture.

Seeing that she was meant to reply Adreya spoke once more.

"My name is Isolde."

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**A/N:** haha! i finished this in less than 4 hours! go me! anyway, before i let you go i need to ask a quick favor! there's a couple of questions that i'd like to ask (please either review with answers or send me a message) **1.** what should happen with Tristan ad Isolde? **A. **they get together, eventually **B.** it's 1 sided, ie: one of them loves the other but it's unrequitted. **C.** one or both dies **D.** they fall in love but then something happens and they hate each other (classic lol) **E.** other (give me your ideas!) **2.** who should Juliana end up with?


	3. In which we reach our destination

**Author's Note:** I'm back, finally! Unfortunately I didn't get to write at all over vacation; therefore I'm terribly behind with both my stories. Not to worry! I should be able to catch up a bit before school starts again. This chapter might be a bit boring as it's mainly just a filler for Adreya to get to Badon Hill. Also, I will be referring to Adreya as Isolde for most of this chapter and then the next several chapters. So don't be confused! And, if you see me refer to someone named Vita, it's actually Ambrosa, had a name mix-up and I'm not sure if I caught all of the mistakes.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own King Arthur, just my OCs and plot

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"Isolde." The old woman rolled the name around her mouth as if she were sampling fine wine. "It is a good name, it suits you."

Isolde merely nodded at her before leaning her head against the hard, wooden side of the carriage.

"If you don't mind me asking where was your carriage? You said you had been traveling." Juliana's question jolted Isolde out of the stupefied daze she had been falling into.

"I wasn't in a carriage, I was riding."

"Riding? Truly? You can ride a horse?" Juliana's voice was suddenly as lively and excited as her eyes.

Ambrosa looked down her nose as she gave a reproachful cough, but Juliana merely ignored her maid, still looking at Isolde with childish excitement.

"Yes, my parents taught me."

Juliana sat back in her seat, an envious look on her face. "It must be wonderful, to be able to ride a horse, I've never been taught."

"I could teach you, perhaps, if Lady Ambrosa does not mind."

Ambrosa did not answer the unspoken question, refusing to bend to the will of the younger women. Juliana turned away from her with a 'huff', pouting as she stared at the wall of the carriage.

Isolde was thrown forward as the carriage hit a large rut in the road. She settled back into her seat and once again lent her head against the uncomfortable side.

The inside of the carriage was consumed by silence as they traveled the remaining few miles to the town they would be staying in.

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Isolde was awoken by the carriage rumbling to a stop. Instantly alert, the Woad listened with her eyes closed as voices came from outside the immobile coach. From what she could hear, they had reached their destination and were being 'welcomed' by the guards. The door was suddenly thrown open, admitting the head of a Roman officer.

"Forgive me, m'ladies, but I need to know who you are and where you are headed.

Ambrosa gave him a fierce glare before complying with his request. "I am Lady Ambrosa, a lady-in-waiting to the house of Julius Honorius. This is his daughter, Lady Juliana, and an acquaintance, Lady Isolde. We are heading to the fort at Badon Hill, at his Lordship's request.

"Of course, m'lady." The office said before turning to look at the man driving the carriage. "You may proceed." He then shut the door and after a moment they were moving again.

After a short time, the coach stopped once again, this time the driver got down and opened the door before heading back to the top to untie their luggage.

Ambrosa was the first to move, stretching her arms and grumbling about aching bones and bumpy carriages. Juliana followed her out of the dark confines of the carriage, giving Isolde a tired smile. Isolde was surprised to find that even she was feeling the effects of being in a carriage for a few hours.

Isolde's senses were immediately assaulted by sites and smells that she was unaccustomed to as she stepped out into the streets. Men and women were bustling around the narrow streets as nightfall drew ever closer, shouting to each other, and skillfully maneuvering around others. The carriage had stopped at the side of what looked to be a housing establishment, either a tavern or an inn, or perhaps both. The driver was busy throwing chests and satchels from the roof of the carriage while Juliana and Ambrosa huddled together to the side. Isolde slowly moved to join them, subconsciously keeping an eye on the commotion around them while quietly standing close to Juliana. The driver suddenly called out to someone, and two young-looking lads, more than likely stable boys, ran out from a side building and waited a little ways from the women.

The driver retrieved the last bags from the roof before jumping down and motioning to the two boys to begin taking the luggage.

Ambrosa nodded to the commanding officer, who was sitting on his horse some feet away. He immediately dismounted and handed the reigns of his steed of to another young boy who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The gruff Roman soldier strode forward and led the women into the building.

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It was even noisier than the streets. Isolde winced slightly as the sounds of drunken men and cackling barmaids burst into the air. Romans were crowded onto benches around the room, laughing, joking, and talking coarsely. The women were carrying trays with mugs full of some sort of potent liquid, probably ale; their dresses were hung low, barely serving their purpose. Some were seated on the laps of the intoxicated soldiers.

Isolde wrinkled her nose in disgust, Roman pigs.

They were approaching a counter. The Roman officer in charge of the journey slammed his fist down on the wood counter. A man, the innkeeper Isolde assumed, hurried out from a small room in back.

"What can I do for you m'lord?" The thin, greasy man asked, his voice oily, his greedy black eyes wandering around their assorted party.

"I need a room for the ladies as well as lodging for my men. One night." His voice was firm, a no-nonsense tone.

The smaller man cowered slightly under the commander's gaze. "Very well, I can give you five rooms, one gold coin apiece."

The commander's eyes narrowed at the price, but he did not argue. He withdrew a leather purse from his belt and counted out five gold coins. "Here you are." He growled, tossing the gold pieces at the innkeeper whose thin fingers scrabbled to catch them. "Some will sleep in the stable with the horses, I expect oats and hay to care for them."

"Of course, of course." The innkeeper said, moving out from behind the counter and moving past the small party towards some stairs in the back. "Follow me, this way."

Isolde turned around and followed the innkeeper and commander, staying close to Juliana who looked paler than ever in the rowdy atmosphere. They went up a narrow flight of stairs and down a hallway.

"These four will be for you and your men, commander." The innkeeper said, gesturing towards the rooms as they passed them. "And this for the lovely ladies." He stopped at the last door in the hall and opened it. Ambrosa swept past him, a glare on her face as she stared him down. Juliana timidly ducked into the room, followed closely by Isolde.

"Commander, please have the driver bring up our smaller trunks. Is there anything you need from your luggage Isolde?"

The girl in question looked up from where she was staring out the window.

"Um, just ask him to bring up my satchel." She said as she turned back to the streets below.

The commander shut the door behind him as he followed the innkeeper back down the hallway.

Ambrosa was already setting herself on the pallet nearest to the door, and Juliana on one by the opposite wall, leaving Isolde the one beside it.

Isolde continued looking out at the darkening sky, already hating this dirty, stinking, town. It was awful, with it's stench, it's rotting buildings, it's Romans. She looked out past the light from the torches, the dark mass of the great forest barely visible in the distance.

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Some time later the driver knocked on the door, leaving two small trunks and Isolde's satchel with them.

The three sat up a bit, talking quietly, more so on Ambrosa and Juliana's part, on how the fort would be, if they would be safe on the remaining leg of the journey, and if Juliana could be taught to ride a horse, which Ambrosa refused to give a straight answer to.

Eventually all lay down on their respective pallets to sleep, Isolde only drifting off lightly, prepared for danger.

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Isolde woke before her two new companions. The grey light of dawn streaming in through the poorly shielded window. Already sounds of people in the streets were permeating the morning air. She stretched, lazily popping her arms and wrists as she sat up and gathered all of her belongings.

Eventually Ambrosa and Juliana began to stir, blearily washing their faces with icy water from a pitcher that had been placed in the room by a maid some hours before.

A little less than an hour later, judging by the sun, the two other women had finished getting ready, not that there was much to do as they wouldn't change their clothing until they reached their destination.

Ambrosa had called a maid and ordered her to inform the commander that they were ready to depart, before disappearing from the small room, muttering something about breakfast as she left.

Juliana and Isolde sat in companionable silence, Isolde thankful that the younger girl was too tired for questions. She was a curious little thing, Juliana. Very frail and delicate on the outside, but with a hidden inner strength. Isolde could almost imagine her a younger sister, nothing like Guin of course, just the opposite. All the same, she thought Guin would like her. It was too bad she was a Roman, though she had an almost unusual amount of curiosity, and she wanted to learn to ride, that was saying something.

The door suddenly opened and Ambrosa entered the room, a package of some sort under her arm. "Well come on, don't just sit there and dawdle, we should reach Badon Hill before nightfall."

The two younger women leapt to their feet and followed Ambrosa from the room, a stable boy entering behind them to retrieve their luggage.

They retraced their steps from the previous night, back down the stairs, and on through the now deserted tavern, out onto the bustling streets and to the carriage. The driver was once again on top while the Roman soldiers mulled around, some mounted and some holding their horses' reigns.

The small stable boys who was dragging their luggage exited behind them and headed over to the carriage, waiting to hand the trunks and satchel up to the driver who was securing the rest of the luggage.

Ambrosa led the way to the carriage. The commander met them their, opening the door and helping them back inside the gloomy space.

As they settled into the stuffy interior and waited to start once more, the older woman brought out the package she had been carrying, opening it to reveal some slightly withered apples and half a loaf of bread, which at least looked fresh.

"We'll have a nice warm meal once we reach the fort, but for now we'll have to do with this and what we have left of our midday food."

Isolde, Juliana, and Ambrosa each took an apple, and the older woman broke the bread into three roughly equal parts, handing one to each of the younger women and keeping the last for herself.

They began eating as the carriage jolted into movement once more, settling into its constant rocking motion.

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Isolde was sore and tired. All she wanted to do was curl up on a bed of heather under a spreading oak and fall asleep to the music of the laughing brook that wound around the main camp. But no, she was stuck in their awful, wooden contraption, and it would be a long time before she could sleep under the stars again.

They had stopped for midday meal several hours before, or at least she thought it was several hours. It was difficult to tell in the carriage. The meal had been just as meager as the morning meal, just some bread, cheese, and salted meat.

The carriage suddenly began to slow, and there was a knock on the door before the commander opened it slightly.

"M'ladies! Badon Hill is in sight, we will reach it within the next hour."

Ambrosa thanked the commander, who nodded and shut the door again, the carriage slowly resuming its former movement.

Ambrosa and Juliana appeared happy and relieved, their journey almost over. Isolde tried to match their expressions, but on the inside all she felt was tense and alert. They had arrived; her mission was beginning. She had reached Badon Hill.

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**Author's note:** Well, there you have it! Hope you enjoyed and that it was worth the wait. A thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers! The next one should be up relatively soon, probably within the next week or so. Tell me what you thought!


	4. In which we recieve a bath

**Author's Note:** Here's the next segment, enjoy! I'd love your comments and suggestions! A picture of Isolde's dinner dress will be in my profile.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own King Arthur, just my characters and plots

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The ride became bumpier as they approached the fort; the road was used more frequently, consequently becoming more run down and splattered with potholes and ruts. Ambrosa began gathering her various possessions, talking to herself about her expectations of their lodgings and of their reception as she made note of each item. Juliana's pale face was flushed with excitement, though a hint of fear was visible on her features as she glanced at the window nervously. Isolde was tense as the carriage drew closer to their destination. She took a calming breath. She was ready for this.

Shouting was suddenly heard, and the carriage slowed a bit as they began up a hill. Metal hitting against metal as something was moved, the gate. The noises drew closer with each rock of the carriage. They stopped. The women could hear men conversing outside, it sounded like the commander and the driver, and a stranger. The voices stopped and the unfamiliar one shouted to someone. They began moving again.

More noise drifted in through the poorly covered windows; the shrieks of children, the shouts of women, the clanging of steel, horses, men, farm animals. Isolde wanted to draw back the curtains, to view this world of chaos and disturbance before stepping out into it. But she could not.

The noise lessened a bit as they slowed and finally stopped, presumably in a more private area. Seconds passed, and then minutes. And then the door was opened, flooding light into the dark interior. Isolde blinked with the sudden change in visibility as the sunlight invaded her eyes, which had become accustomed to the constant lack of proper lighting. The commander was once again in the door frame, waiting for the women to adjust and step out. He held an arm out to Ambrosa, which she accepted before stepping down and onto the firm ground. Next he assisted Juliana, who clung to his arm like a life-line before daintily jumping out of the carriage and huddling slightly behind her fierce nurse-maid, as though afraid something wild would jump out and get her if she were not protected. Lastly he offered his armored arm to Isolde who took it hesitantly and held it lightly as she fairly leapt from the dank transport. She stood next to her companions and took in the sights around her with calculating eyes, committing the images to memory for further use.

They appeared to be standing in a courtyard of sorts, a square shaped area surrounded by a building with open arches, a stable, on three sides, and partly open on the fourth where a metal gate kept the commoners away. Stable boys and squires were going about their various duties, maids and servants occasionally crossing the small area. The roofs were flat-topped and looked to be fairly accessible from the ground; this could be useful. There were Roman centurions everywhere, standing at the corners, outside the courtyard, on the high-walls surrounding the fort. Roman soldiers with their clanking armor and blood-red capes.

Ambrosa and Juliana still stood to Isolde's right, the commander was a few meters away talking quietly to another officer, more than likely a high-ranking commander at the fort. They were waiting for something, but what? And then, with a thundering clatter of hooves, her question was answered.

Eight large warhorses suddenly burst through the now-open gate and into the courtyard, and Isolde, Juliana, and Ambrosa found themselves looking at the infamous Sarmation Knights.

Juliana shrunk back even further as their small party caught the attention of some of the knights, Ambrosa's fearsome glare turning up a couple of notches in response to the semi curious stares a few of the warriors were sending their way.

Isolde took the chance to study the knights without seeming too conspicuous. Their commander, the half Roman, half Briton, Arthur, was the only one wearing Roman armor. Even without that brilliantly distinguishing feature, it was unmistakable that he was the one in command. His dark, slightly curly hair was cropped somewhat short and well groomed, a few days worth of stubble ghosting his lower face. His musky green eyes, the eyes of a Briton, were keen and sharp, taking in everything at once, alert, but at the same time kind and gentle looking. His strong face was noble; it silently shouted leader to those with eyes good enough to read it. He was broad and tall, but certainly not the largest of the knights, not was he by any means the slightest. At his side, held securely in its scabbard, rested Excalibur, the mighty sword that had slain many of her people. His red cloak billowed out behind him, covering the rump of his large white horse. He was leaning down, talking to one of the men who had gathered, probably his squire, by the looks of him. She shifted her gaze to the man sitting next to him.

Lancelot, most certainly Lancelot. The almost devilish good looks and the twin swords across his back gave it away. He was obviously tall, though perhaps a bit shorter than Arthur, and wiry, but also muscled from nearly 15 years of fighting. His hair was dark and curly, and he had a neatly combed beard. His eyes were dark like his hair, smoldering with untold emotions as they searched the courtyard warily. Arthur's right hand man, and closest friend. He was a sight to behold on the battlefield, twirling his twin blades in his hands, and sticking them into as many Woads as he could get to. She had nearly become one of the victims of those beautiful, but bloodthirsty, blades on more than one occasion. Lancelot's other 'art' was not as appreciated by the Woad. His nightly activities were known even to her people, his love of women, and bedding them. She could see, now that she could really study him without being in the midst of battle and fighting for her life, why women flocked to him. He was dangerously good looking, and was most likely very charming, with a honeyed tongue as the elder women might say. She could see the cockiness in his posture, even while he sat gracefully on his great black horse and talked with Arthur. Definitely someone to stay away from.

A few yards behind Arthur and Lancelot, another of the knights had already dismounted from his grey steed. He was the youngest looking, which meant he was Galahad. His hair, like Lancelot's, was a mass of curls, though his were lighter in color. A slight beard covered his lower face, and his eyes were a warm, inviting brown. There was a fire in them, a rebellious look that would not bode well for him if he kept it growing. He appeared to be in his early twenties, the youngest by several years, either a late arrival or he was taken to early, she assumed. He was slighter in stature than the others, but was obviously just as strong. An oddly shaped bow, a Sarmation bow, was slung against his back, ready to be used as a moment's notice. He didn't look happy as he stood there, running a dirty hand up and down his horse's neck as he absently held the reigns.

Beside Galahad was another knight, just dismounting from his own grey horse. Gawain, she thought. His golden hair was long, dirty, and tangled. A beard covered his lower face like most of his brothers. His eyes, squinting slightly in the sunlight, were a startling blue. The gold-blond hair and blue eyes was a rare combination for a Sarmation from what she had seen, rare, but apparently not impossible. He was sturdily built and brawny, but fluid in his movements, not the kind of person she would want to tussle with. He placed a hand briefly on Galahad's shoulder, perhaps to tell him to cool down, before walking his horse up a bit and shifting some of his gear around, hooking some of his small throwing axes back into his belt and, and loosening his saddle's girth.

A boisterous laugh turned her attention to a large knight standing by the metal gate, which was now closed again. The knight, a stout, burly, man with a shaved head, stubble on his face, and dark eyes could only be Bors. A fiery haired woman stood on the other side of the gate, seven small, dirty children of various ages crowded around her, two younger ones were held in her arms and resting on her hips, her belly was beginning to show signs of swelling, another child. Isolde wasn't sure what the woman's name was, but she could only be the mother of Bors's brood of bastards. The gruff warrior obviously wanted to leave the confines of the courtyard to have some time alone with his woman, but he wasn't allowed to leave until released, so he made due by talking to her through the bars and then turning back to his horse and cleaning his knives which were still stained and dripping from a recent battle.

On the other side of Bors was a large man, easily the tallest and broadest of the knights. Dagonet portrayed a fearsome picture, with his massive size, shaved head, and numerous scars, but really he was more of a gentle giant, just as talented in the art of giving life as he was at taking it, which was an accomplishment seeing as the latter was the easier task. Scars littered the kind man's face, one running right over one of his light colored eyes, a miracle that he had not been blinded. He would be a good asset, Isolde decided, someone beneficial to befriend. From what she had seen, he didn't talk much, but he seemed fiercely protective, more understanding, and more forgiving.

A little ways away from Dagonet and Bors, closer to Galahad and Gawain, stood another knight, also already dismounted from his brown horse. Kay, she concluded, from his blond hair that held a distinctive red tint to it. He was certainly one of the younger knights, though not as young as Galahad. His hazel eyes brightened a bit at something Gawain had said, and he walked in their direction, his lean figure and long legs helping him move faster and more gracefully than perhaps Bors. As Kay joined his brothers in arms, she let her gaze drift to the last knight, the one sitting away from the others with a tawny hawk on his arm, the one who had saved her so many years ago.

Tristan. Her hand unconsciously moved toward the hawk charm hidden by her cloak. It had been several years before she had learned the name of the mysterious knight who had rescued her from the snare. He had always captivated her, his appearance, his skills in scouting and fighting, the way he seemed to dance across the battlefield. His dark hair still hung at eye level, a few braids poking out here and there, hiding his dark yet light eyes, guarding his expression. His left hand rested lightly on his curved sword while his right supported the hawk he had befriended. She stared at him, drinking him in, that enigma of a man, before turning her attention back to the women at her side.

Juliana was still staring about with wide-eyed fascination and fear. Ambrosa still looked as though she was trying to entice one of the knights into a glaring contest. Isolde was sure the old woman would win.

Suddenly Arthur called out to his men. Most of them immediately handed their horses off to some boys who were waiting before heading out the gate, Bors in the lead. He met his fiery vixen right outside and they immediately started off in some direction surrounded by their herd of children. The rest of the men headed in the same general direction, presumably for their quarters or the tavern. Isolde watched Tristan and Dagonet lead their horses into the stable from the corner of her eye. She was paying more attention to Arthur who was striding towards.

"My ladies, welcome to Badon Hill!"

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They were now following the knights' great commander through the halls of the main fortress of Badon Hill. He wasn't saying much, just pointing out different locations and such, but he was friendly and welcoming. He stopped as they reached a set of doors, almost identical to all the others.

"We were not informed of the addition to your party, but another room will be prepared by tonight." Arthur informed them apologetically.

"Oh, that's alright," Juliana said quickly, speaking up for the first time. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Isolde can stay with me in my room, it's plenty large. Is that alright with you Isolde?"

The girl in question looked up, a bit startled when she was addressed. "Oh, yes, it's quite alright, I'd love to share a room with you Juliana." The fragile looking girl beamed and looked relieved.

"Well then, now that that's settled I shall leave you to your rooms. Somebody should be bringing your belongings up shortly. I'd also like to extend an invitation to dinner in a more private area than the tavern for your first night here."

"We gladly accept." Ambrosa said before curtsying, prompting Juliana and Isolde to do the same. "Thank you my lord."

Arthur smiled gently and returned the gesture with a bow before excusing himself and proceeding back in the direction he had come from.

Juliana immediately grasped Isolde's arm the minute Arthur turned the corner. She practically dragged the taller girl into the room, Ambrosa shaking her head at the younger girl's antics as she entered her own chamber.

The room was spacious, of far better quality than the inn the previous night. A large bed was placed in the center with translucent curtains hung around it suspended from the ceiling. A wardrobe rested against the wall, and a small table with two chairs was set near the window. A fireplace with an unlit fire was situated in the opposite wall. A fur rug covered most of the stone floor, and a screen shielded a small alcove, for changing and off to the side another area to relieve oneself.

Juliana quickly dropped her travel-worn cloak and hopped onto the bed, snuggling into the covers as a shield against the chill of the stone room. Isolde followed more slowly, folding her own cloak over her arm and sitting on the edge of the bed, watching as her companion shook out her golden locks, running delicate fingers through the tangled hair.

"Ambrosa will probably make us take a bath." She groaned, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. She noticed Isolde's look of apprehension and slight disgust. "Oh I know, I dislike them as well, in Rome it's not so bad, large pools and steaming water, here though…" She trailed off, shivering slightly. "Ambrosa always makes me take one every week, sometimes several days in a row if she thinks I need it."

The girls sat in silence for a bit, mulling over the threat of an upcoming bath. Isolde didn't really mind being clean, in fact she enjoyed bathing and swimming in the streams, but there she could swim and dive off of rocks and have a good time while the water washed the dirt and dye from her body. Here she would be forced into a small metal tub with warm water that would gradually grow colder and colder as it sat upon the icy stone floor. Here she would be scrubbed until her skin was unnaturally pink and raw. Here she would have her hair tugged through and pulled out until it was tangle free. She was not looking forward to it.

A loud knock at the door brought the gaze of both girls to the thick wooden obstruction blocking what was more than likely Ambrosa with a squad of maids, armed with a large metal pot. They looked at each other as the noise was repeated. Isolde slowly got up and walked to the door, reaching out a hand and grasping the handle, then pulling back slowly. Ambrosa's wrinkled form moved quickly past her, forcing her to leap back and open the door wider, admitting a team of maids and some stable boys, two maids carrying the tub and several more following with buckets of steaming water, the boys hauling in their various trunks and belongings. Ambrosa pointed to a clear spot on the floor and the maids put the heavy tub on the floor before exiting the room, probably to fetch more water. The stable boys dragged the trunks to an empty wall and then left in a hurry, apparently as adverse to a bath as Juliana and Isolde. One by one the maids dumped the hot contents of their buckets into the tub, then left, and returned a few minutes later with another bucket until it was at last full. "I'll let you know when we're ready for the next load." Ambrosa ordered, shooing the remaining maids out of the room and shutting the door. She turned to Juliana. "Off with them!" Juliana groaned before complying, removing her belt and other extremities before turning around, Ambrosa loosening the laces holding her dress up. She peeled the soiled material from her thin body, letting it drop to the floor, leaving her in her shift and boots. "Hurry up then!" Ambrosa called from beside the tub. Juliana scowled before shrugging the shift off, leaving the boots for last to protect her feet from the cold floor. She moved to the rug and pulled the boots off, then edged towards Ambrosa who stood waiting impatiently. The older woman grasped Juliana's arm before tugging her into the tub. Juliana hissed as the hot water came into contact with her cold body, but had no chance to say anything before Ambrosa shoved her head under the water to wet her hair. Isolde watched with wide eyes as the nursemaid rubbed soap through the wet hair until it was lathered up, then handed the soap to Juliana who took it in a disgruntled way, running the clump through a rough cloth and then began scrubbing her body as Ambrosa worked her hands through her long hair. Juliana finished washing herself just as Ambrosa forced her head back under the water, rinsing some of the suds out. She then picked up a pitcher of water that had been left beside the tub and poured it over her head, rinsing out the remaining soap. Ambrosa reached down again and pulled up a towel, unfolding it and shaking it out. Juliana stood, shaking the water from her body. Ambrosa wrapped the cloth firmly around her body as she stepped from the tub. Juliana headed over to one of the chairs and sat down, holding the towel to her form as she shivered from the sudden decrease of temperature. Ambrosa went to the door and signaled to some one. The troop of maids returned minutes later with more buckets of steaming water. Isolde grimaced as she realized it was her turn.

Isolde gasped as her skin came into contact with the hot water, sending tingles down her body as the slight chill was replaced with over-warm heat. Suddenly Ambrosa's hand was pushing her underneath the water and pulling her pack up, gnarled fingers pulling through her hair, rubbing it with a misshapen bar of sweet-smelling soap. The bar was offered to her and she took it hesitantly, picking up a cloth that had been left for her use and soaping it up, feeling Ambrosa's hands massaging and pulling through her locks. She ran the rough, soapy cloth up and down her arms, scrubbing away the grime of travel. A few minutes later she was finished washing, and was pushed under again by Ambrosa. The pitcher of water, substantially cooler than the water in the tub, was poured over her head, causing her hair to fall around her face in dripping tendrils. Ambrosa's bony but strong arms heaved her to her feet and then wrapped her snugly in a cloth before walking to where Juliana was sitting, a smaller cloth on her arm.

She stood behind Juliana's seated form and began running the smaller cloth over her wet hair, wringing the water out and toweling her hair till it was partly dry. Ambrosa then returned to where Isolde was still standing, dragging her over to the other chair and giving her the same treatment, pulling the rough cloth down her hair and pulling at her scalp. The pressure on her head was released as Ambrosa walked away, opening one of the trunks and rummaging through it. Juliana shook out her hair and gingerly pressed her hands to her head, wincing as she made pained faces at Isolde.

Ambrosa returned, this time armed with a thick comb. Both girls cowered away from her, even Isolde, who had no desire to have the stout nursemaid pull her hair out with the sturdy looking comb. The older woman attacked Juliana first, pushing her down into the seat when she tried to rise. She pulled the thick comb roughly through Juliana's damp hair, causing her fingers to twitch and curl into fists, knuckles turning white as Ambrosa persisted in pulling her hair. Isolde observed Juliana's apparent agony with trepidation, at least Guin had tried to be as gentle as possible, Ambrosa was brutally yanking and pulling, so hard that Juliana was at times pulled out of her seat.

Finally Ambrosa finished, the comb smoothly running through the golden strands as though through water, the slightly damp hair falling languidly down her bare back. Then the older woman turned to Isolde, who cringed into her seat as she approached, armed with the comb, Juliana looking relieved that the torture was over across the table.

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Some time later Ambrosa was smoothly running the comb through Isolde's long, dark hair. Isolde bore a murderous expression, her hands itching to throttle the cantankerous old woman. Juliana still sat in the other seat, looking partly sympathetic and partly amused, more amused if you asked Isolde. Ambrosa eventually stopped running the comb through Isolde's hair and set it down on the table, picking it back up almost immediately when she saw the look in Isolde's eyes, the look that said she was harboring thoughts of taking said comb and throwing it in the fire or out the window. Juliana laughed at this before standing and following the older woman to the trunks, Isolde remained where she was, watching them.

"Well don't just dawdle there!" Ambrosa scolded from where she was kneeling next to the largest trunk. "Get out one of your better dresses, you certainly won't be going to dinner like that!"

Isolde had the decency to blush. She may have been used to walking around amongst her people in less, but her leather garments were tight and held together, not a flimsy towel. Plus, it just felt, different.

Ambrosa pulled a dark gown out of the trunk and laid it on the floor. Then she began rummaging through some of the other trunks for the matching accessories.

"I'll return once I've fixed myself up." She said, rising to her feet. "If you need help there's a connecting door behind that hanging." She pointed towards an over-sized map of the Briton which hung on the wall, then walked to it, lifted it out of the way revealing a wooden door, and proceeded into her own room.

Juliana looked at Isolde and giggled. "How did you enjoy your first Ambrosa bathing experience?" She asked.

Isolde merely stuck her tongue out in reply, making Juliana laugh more.

"Go on then, pick out something to wear." Juliana said, calming down and pushing Isolde in the direction of her trunk.

Isolde slowly opened her trunk, revealing a rainbow of fabrics. She rummaged through it, searching for something suitable. She turned to Juliana for inspiration.

The Roman girl was sliding into a light blue, long-sleeved under dress, a bit thicker than a shift but serving the same purpose. The over dress was a darker blue and of much finer quality than the dress she had been wearing before. A rich, leather belt, inlaid with gold and small red jewels held the two layers tightly together at her waist. Dainty blue slippers, hardly a protection against the cold, lay ready by her feet.

Isolde turned back to her trunk, retrieving a few pieces of fabric that she thought seemed similar to what Juliana was wearing. She gathered the material and brought it over to the bed, dropping her towel after she had laid the dress down. The first layer was a long-sleeved, spring green under gown with a simple embroidered pattern along the hem and edges of the sleeves. The next layer, a bright yellow, was not even a full dress. Its sleeves were only a few inches wide and it had a front and a back, no sides. Isolde carefully lowered it over her head, straightening it, before picking up a simple reddish-brown leather belt, inlaid with dark green gems, and tying it around her waist, effectively holding the top layer on while the lower layer showed through the open sides and at the bottom where the top layer was a bit shorter. She slipped her feet into the dark green slippers that accompanied the dress, they would be hidden by her skirt so she didn't understand why she couldn't wear boots. An emerald cloak with a golden edge finished the outfit, held together by an emerald and gold broach, one of the few jewels she had been given.

She turned around to see Juliana clipping her black cloak with a sapphire broach. Gold bracelets adorned her slim wrists and small blue stones were clipped onto her ears.

"You look wonderful!" She exclaimed, as she looked Isolde up and down. "Aren't you going to put on any jewelry?"

"I don't tend to carry much around with me." Isolde shrugged sheepishly. "Is it a problem?"

"No, but wait! I think I might have something!" She scurried over to one of the trunks and began digging through it. "Ambrosa always packs so much! I can never wear it all, don't really like to anyway, much too heavy. You don't seem like the kind of person to enjoy wearing it either. Ah! This should do fine though."

She returned with a small gold circlet and the comb. Setting the items down on the bed, she turned Isolde so that she was facing away from her and then picked up the comb again. She ran the comb through Isolde's now-dry hair before setting the comb down again and using her fingers to brush through it and braid it into a long, loose, braid, leaving a few tendrils loose around her face. She turned Isolde around once more and took up the circlet, which Isolde now saw held an emerald at the point where it dipped down a bit. Juliana carefully wove the circlet into Isolde's hair. She smiled.

"There! All done! You know, I never noticed, but your eyes have a bit of green in them. I suppose the dress brings it out, you couldn't see it before. Quite a lovely effect in my opinion." Suddenly a slight gleam of metal caught her attention. "Oh! This is lovely!" She said as she reached out to grasp the small charm that hung around Isolde's neck.

Isolde almost jumped backwards out of instinct when the quick movement, but she quickly relaxed again when Juliana started speaking. "It is isn't it?" She said, reaching behind to untie the cord. The tiny hawk fell into Juliana's hand and she marveled at the tiny silver bird.

"It's wonderful, wherever did you get it?" Juliana asked as she handed it back to Isolde.

"A friend gave it too me a long time ago." Isolde replied softly, running a finger over the charm before walking over to her trunk and putting it safely inside, she couldn't risk him seeing it and identifying her.

When she turned around Juliana was combing through her long golden hair, which now fell down her back in gently waves.

"Ambrosa will return soon, and then it will be time for dinner." Juliana said absentmindedly as she replaced the comb and straightened her dress.

Isolde stood by the flickering fire, which one of the maids had lit before they bathed, the blaze illuminating her shadowed face as she stood in the soft glow of the fire which was the only source of light in the darkened room. The sun had gone down long before and the window had been covered.

The two young women, the Roman and the Woad, stood and waited in the softly lit room, waited for a knock on the door.

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**Author's Note:** Hope you enjoyed! I'm not sure when the next one will be out, but i'll try to write it soon!


	5. In which there is dinner & wild children

**Author's Note:** Here's the next installment, boy am I on a roll! It'll be in this day-to-day for a little while longer, and then I'll start skipping through weeks and months. Don't forget to review!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own King Arthur; I only own my characters and plot.

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Isolde and Juliana walked slowly down the long stone corridor, following Ambrosa, who had changed into a finer, burgundy colored dress, though not as fine as theirs, and had pulled her hair into an up sweep with gold cord holding it up, and a middle-aged man in a dirty smock who had introduced himself as Jols, Arthur's squire. The fairer girl's persona was once again quiet and demure, while her darker companion remained tense and watchful, her shoulders not quite noticeably tense, her eyes darting about every few minutes, taking in the layout of the building and the different passageways.

Jols turned yet another corner, the two younger women shared a quick glance, silently wondering if they were ever going to reach their destination. The sudden muffled sounds of laughter and talking coming from behind a set of double-doors at the end of the hallway answered that question. Jols picked up his pace, stepping a bit in front of Ambrosa, who lessened hers so that she was directly in front of her charge and adopted charge.

The squire stopped by the doors and waited for the three women to reach him. Juliana took a deep, steadying breath, smiling at Isolde who still stood beside her. Isolde smiled back and relaxed a bit. 'This should be interesting.' She thought wryly. Here she was, an important and honored warrior among the Woads, about to dine with the famed Sarmation Knights, the same knights who would gut her like a suckling pig if they found out who, and what, she really was.

Jols opened the doors and stepped inside, announcing them to the knights. "Ladies Ambrosa, Juliana, and Isolde." Ambrosa led the way into the room, the two younger women following in her wake. The room was brightly lit and unfamiliar carvings, probably Sarmation, decorated the walls, and in the center of the room was a table, a round table. It was beautifully crafted with more designs and names carved into the rich wood. The center of the table was open, creating a ring. The seven knights and their commander were standing about the table in their various spots, having risen politely when the women had entered the room. Arthur smiled warmly and moved to greet them.

"My ladies, I thank you for joining us, please, seat yourselves wherever you like."

Ambrosa thanked him and led the way to the table, making sure to seat herself between the knights and her charges. Juliana and Isolde sat beside her, Juliana between the two. Arthur and the other knights reseated themselves, introduction were made, the knights nodding to the women when they were named, Lancelot flashing a cheeky grin, and awkward silence filling the room.

"If you don't mind me asking, how was the journey from Rome?" Arthur asked, taking a sip from his goblet.

A maid brought in three more goblets for the three women and they each took one before replying.

"Long, tiresome, and thankfully over." Ambrosa said bluntly, setting the beaten gold goblet on the table.

Arthur chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. "Yes, it is a long, difficult journey, but thankfully you have arrived safe and sound. Tell me, we were told that there would only be two women arriving, so how is it that three sit before me?"

Isolde shifted uneasily as the knights turned their interest to her and Juliana, more curious than before with Arthur's inquiry.

"You are correct, the journey began with only Lady Juliana," she nodded towards the pale girl who reddened slightly at the sudden attention. "And myself. We met Lady Isolde on the road when she was attacked."

"Attacked?" The knight, Lancelot, asked looking intently at the lady in question.

"Yes," she said softly, avoiding his eyes. "My party was attacked by the blue warriors, the natives, it was only through the efforts of Ambrosa and Juliana's guards that I am still alive." She finally raised her eyes to his, almost afraid that he would see right through her mask, her lies. He looked almost unconcerned, rolling his eyes at her description of the Romans' 'heroics'.

Arthur, on the other hand, looked worried. "Are you sure you are alright Lady?"

Isolde looked at him, he truly seemed to care, perhaps he really wasn't like all other Romans, but then, it could just be that she was a 'high ranking lady'.

"Yes, I am quiet fine, I assure you."

"Where were you headed my lady?" The commander asked, trying to continue a conversation.

"Actually, I was heading in this direction, my parents died some time ago, and my uncle decided that he would rather send me to another relation at this fort. Commander Clauvius I believe is his name." She lied smoothly, playing the part of a slightly timid, orphaned Roman lady, naming a Roman commander of high station who had been killed about a month before in an attack. Her excuse for being in the area was slightly ironic, a twisted version of the truth, so she was not completely lying.

Arthur looked uncomfortable as he tried to think of a way to break the news to the 'fragile' young woman that her 'relative' was now dead and she had no one hear. "I am truly sorry, Lady, commander Clauvius was killed, not yet a month ago.

Isolde forced herself to gasp and look afraid and sad. "But my lord, what shall I do now, I cannot return to Rome, and now I learn that I have no one here."

Ambrosa cut in sharply. "Don't be ridiculous child, you will stay with us, Juliana is already quite fond of you and I don't mind so long as you don't cause trouble."

Isolde looked at her in a seemingly grateful way before looking back down at the spectacularly carved table.

The other knights seemed to be ignoring their conversation, apparently bored with the sordid details of Isolde's misfortunes, not that she blamed them. She studied them over the rim of her goblet as she pretended to take a deep drink. They were far more relaxed here than she had ever seen them. They wore no armor, though they carried weapons at their sides, most likely more out of habit than anything. Bors was talking loudly to Dagonet about his plans for when the Romans moved out, while the gentle giant sat beside him and grunted when asked his opinion. Gawain, Kay, and Galahad were seated together, Gawain guffawing and Galahad snorting into his goblet at something Kay had said. Lancelot sat near Arthur, sitting with a relaxed, but intense look on his face, staring moodily at nothing in particular. And then there was Tristan. He was silent and sat slightly apart from the others, an almost predatory look in his eyes, and seated in a way that would let him leap to his feet in an instant, always ready for anything. She quickly looked away as he, seeming to feel her lingering gaze, looked up at her. The knights were so at ease here, they looked and acted like normal people, which, she supposed, they were even as they were not. Before she had never thought of how they might act when not on the battlefield, but here they were, joking, talking, enjoying themselves. It was so strange to see them like this.

Suddenly the doors opened again and a throng of servants streamed into the room, each holding a platter filled with food. Mutton, bread, and some sort of broth, along with fruit, covered the platters. Each person received their own tray; Isolde didn't think she'd be able to eat so much food. Her people certainly didn't starve, but they did not have large meals except at celebrations, such as the Summer Solstice, Winter Solstice, and Beltane.

The knights sat waiting for something, she didn't know what. Then Arthur stood, queuing the knights to also rise, though the women remained seated.

"To those who have fallen." Everyone in the room raised their goblets and repeated his toast. Isolde felt a bit uncomfortable; here she was, toasting men who her people had killed, who she had killed.

The knights sat back down and immediately immersed themselves in their food. Arthur asked a few more questions of the women while the others were happy to ignore and be ignored, though Isolde periodically studied the men before her, avoiding Tristan as much as possible as he appeared more than adept at feeling other's eyes on him.

It was late by the time everyone was finished with their meal; Juliana looked to be on the verge of collapsing, her delicate body exhausted from the long day.

Arthur stood once more. "Thank you again ladies for joining us. Now, I'm sure you must be ready to retire, I'll have Jols show you to your rooms."

Ambrosa bid farewell to the knights who merely nodded and return before the three were led out of the room and back through the maze of corridors to their chambers.

"Here you are my ladies." Jols said, stopping in front of the doors. "For breakfast in the morning either call for a servant to take you to the kitchens or go to the tavern, Vanora will be more than happy to help you." He bowed and then left, walking briskly in the direction he had come from.

Ambrosa immediately went into her room, muttering something about cold floors and good wine as she shut the door. Juliana swayed slightly in her sleepy state, waiting for Isolde to open their door.

The fire still burned cheerfully in the hearth, lighting the otherwise dark room and spreading a bit of warmth. Juliana stumbled to her trunk, lazily pulling off her finery and pulling off the top layer of dress. Isolde copied her actions on the other side of the room, neatly folding the fabric and placing the circlet Juliana had lent her on top, to be returned in the morning. She dug through her trunk and drew out a chemise, a long, billowing dress-like garment to be worn during sleep. She wrinkled her nose, feeling the itchy fabric. It was going to be a long night. She sighed, slipping off the under dress and pulling the chemise over her heading, tightening the string at her neck and writs so that it wouldn't slip right off her shoulders. Juliana was just finishing putting hers on. She smiled sleepily at Isolde.

"Ready for bed then?" Isolde nodded, also tired from the days journey. She sat on the bed and pushed the shoes from her feet. Juliana jumped up beside her, throwing her side of the blankets up and scurrying underneath, dropping her shoes to the floor beside her. Isolde followed her into the bed. It was in no way unusual to be sharing a bed with the other girl. Close family relations nearly always slept together, whether Roman or Woad, especially in the cold of winter. Husband and Wife, Sister and Sister, Brother and Brother, Friend and Friend. It supplied another source of warmth. All of the young children always slept together as well. She turned slightly, looking at the younger Roman girl. She was already asleep, her golden hair fanning out on the pillow, her eyes closed, her face relaxed. Isolde smiled softly, and then frowned. She was already growing attached, thinking of Juliana as a friend, maybe even as a younger sister. That wasn't good. She had known the girl for two days, and already her hidden liveliness, sweet disposition, and suppressed mischievous spark was rubbing off on the Woad. Her features hardened, she would have to distance herself, and yet, that would hurt Juliana, plus she had promised to teach her to ride. Isolde sighed, this would be difficult, attachments would make her mission, and leaving harder, but she wanted to be friends with the sweet Roman girl. She turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling and imaging it was the stars instead of stone and wood. This mission was not going to go well, she could already feel it.

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Back at the Round Table Arthur was still talking with his knights.

"Well, what do you think?"

The knights quieted down and Tristan spoke. "The old woman seemed fine, if a bit grumpy," the men chuckled, "The blond also, perhaps timid, but that's a typical Roman girl for you." The men once again voiced their agreement with laughter.

"And the other, the pretty girl with the long dark hair and gorgeous eyes?" Lancelot prompted with his usual flirtatious attitude.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "Her, I'm not so sure about."

"Why not?" Arthur asked, leaning forward, concerned.

Tristan sat back in his seat, folding his arms. "The way she moves, the way she carefully observes everything in her surroundings, her story. She's nothing like the other girl even though they are about the same age and apparently both from Rome. Also, how could she have survived a Woad attack long enough to be rescued by the other party when all of her 'guards' were killed?"

Kay snorted as Tristan finished talking. "You're too suspicious, she's just a poor girl who's frightened, alone, and a bit different than the average Roman girl, and there's certainly nothing wrong with that."

"I agree with Kay," Dagonet added, "She does not appear to be a threat, and even if she were, she's one small girl in the middle of a Roman fort with Roman soldiers and us. I highly doubt she would be able to do anything that we couldn't handle."

Most of the men nodded, Tristan shrugged. Arthur sat up and then stood.

"Tristan, watch her, if she does anything suspicious you will report to me immediately. The rest of you keep an eye on her if she is near you, but for now we will consider her a possible threat. If she's clear after a month we'll cease watching her.

The men nodded, also rising, and headed off to their various rooms.

"I hope your right." Tristan said as he paused by Arthur. The commander looked at him wearily. "So do I, my friend, so do I."

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The next morning Isolde was up before the dawn, Juliana still snoring lightly in the bed. The Woad girl pulled a simple outfit out of her trunk, a thin dull-blue dress that fell to her ankles and a brown leather vest to go over top. She dressed swiftly, pulling the slightly scratchy fabric over her head and letting it pool at her feet before lacing it in the back and putting the vest on, lacing it up as well. She wore her boots this time, they were sturdier than the dainty slippers she had been forced to wear the night before, and she would need good shoes for walking about. Isolde quickly ran a comb through her long hair, brushing it down and leaving it loose, before fetching her cloak and stepping out of the room with one last look at the still slumbering girl on the bed. She would do some exploring and perhaps find breakfast before returning to find the other girl.

Isolde walked down the corridor, occasionally passing a maid or servant who would curtsy or bow accordingly. She made it outside just as the sky began to lighten, the brief flashes of orange and peak in the morning sky and the soft light bringing a smile to her face. She continued walking, crossing the small courtyard she had entered and continuing out of the main building of the fortress, ending up in an empty street across from what looked to be the tavern on one side and the stable on the other. She was trying to decide which to look into first when suddenly she was hit from behind with surprising force and sent sprawling to the ground, or she would have been sent sprawling if not for her warrior's reflexes which caused her to land in a crouch and twist around, springing up as she did so.

Instead of the would-be attacker she had been expecting, Isolde found herself looking down at a small girl who bore an excruciating guilty look on her dirty face.

"THREE!" A woman's booming voice broke the formerly pristine morning air and shattered it into a thousand figurative pieces. The little girl winced and ducked behind Isolde who found herself staring at a woman with flaming red hair and a scowl on her pretty face as she stormed towards the Woad, or more precisely, at the young girl cowering behind her. Bor's lover, Vanora, apparently had a fearsome temper, Isolde almost felt sorry for the man. The woman had by this time reached Isolde and had pulled the girl out from behind her, keeping a firm grip on her skinny arm as the girl struggled.

"How many times have I told you? You don't leave until I tell you to, you don't chase your brother, and you don't go knocking people over, now what do you say to the lady."

The girl looked up at Isolde who had a faintly amused expression on her face. "I'm very sorry miss, I wasn't watching where I was going." Isolde knelt down a bit so that she was about level with the girl's face. "Ah, no harm done, it happens to the best of us, I once knocked a general over when he came to my home." She laughed slightly, conveniently leaving out the fact that she had been diving onto him in the midst of battle and by home she meant the forest. The little girl laughed as well, revealing a toothy smile and sparkling brown eyes. Isolde stood up and smiled at Vanora. "Hello, I don't believe we've been introduced, I'm Isolde." The other woman smiled and shook her head. "I'm Vanora, and this is Three, one of my numerous children. Here, come with me to the tavern and I'll fix you up something to eat, and then you might want to have Dagonet have a look at those hands of yours," She scolded slightly, gesturing at Isolde's hands with were slightly scraped, and herding her in the direction of the tavern, Three skipping along beside them. "He'll probably be up, only one of those bloody knights with his head on his shoulders, excluding Arthur of course."

The fiery but amiable woman pulled Isolde inside the tavern, talking about this that and he other, the younger woman looking slightly bewildered but laughing at Vanora's antics, unaware that she was being observed from a distance.

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Tristan narrowed his eyes as he watched the strange woman enter the tavern with Vanora. He had been cleaning his knives when he had heard her pass his rooms, her steps softer and more confident than the clumsy noise of the servants. He had followed her at a distance as she wandered the hallways, seemingly lost in thought.

She had finally made it outside and had stood just outside the door for a moment gazing dreamily up at the sky, then had moved forward, still apparently unaware that she was being followed.

The girl had stopped in the empty street and had appeared to be trying to decide between going to the tavern or to the stables, which was a bit odd in his opinion, most women would have automatically opted for the tavern, but what happened next raised his suspicions even more. He had watched as one of Vanora's children had burst from the tavern and run straight for the stranger, looking behind her the whole time as if watching for someone, then she had slammed directly into slight woman with enough force to send her flying, but she had not gone flying, instead she had instinctively landed in a crouch and spun around as though ready to be attacked. No woman he had met was able to do such a thing, especially without thinking about it. It was a defensive move that could be quickly turned into an offensive one.

He hardly noticed as Vanora and the woman talked and then walked towards the tavern. One more piece to the puzzle, she apparently at least knew how to defend herself, most likely also how to fight. How would a Roman lady know something like that? He watched as she entered the tavern and decided to follow, something wasn't right about that woman, and he was determined to find out what it was.

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Isolde allowed herself to be dragged to a table near the back. Vanora bustled off in search of something edible and the little girl sat down beside her, staring up at her with wide, inquisitive brown eyes.

"You're one of the ladies that arrived yesterday." The little girl said.

Isolde looked down at the girl, she appeared to be about 8, maybe 9. Her hair was dark as were her eyes and her skin was tanned from being outside all day. Her dress had been patched several times and her shoes looked too big, probably passed down from one of her older siblings. "Yes, I'm Isolde."

Three smiled her toothy grin again and began swinging her legs as she sat on her chair. "Da told momma that you were attacked on the way, were you really? Did you see the blue demons?" The excited look in her big eyes and the hopeful look on her face was enough to make Isolde smile again. "Yes, it was quite frightening."

Three scoffed. "I wouldn't have been scared, my Da would have run 'em off."

Isolde shook her head at the child's innocence, though she did have a point; Bors was a very intimidating opponent on the battlefield.

The door to the tavern suddenly opened. Isolde looked over her shoulder to see Tristan step gracefully into the building, his keen eyes searching her out immediately. She shuddered uneasily under his gaze before he looked away and walked in the direction Vanora had gone.

Three had stopped her childish babbling and had shrunk down a bit. She looked back up at Isolde when Tristan was out of sight. "I don't like him, he scares me." The little girl whispered.

Isolde couldn't help but agree, there was something about that man that intrigued her, and something else about him that made her hair rise.

Vanora soon came back, two bowls of what looked to porridge in her hands. She nodded her head back in the direction she had come from. "Get one back there Three, your breakfast is with the rest of 'em."

The little girl jumped up and gave Isolde a quick hug, surprising the woman, before scampering into the back room to join her numerous siblings.

"She likes you." Vanora said with a chuckle. "Now you'll never be rid of her.

"I don't mind, she's sweet." Isolde said, dipping her spoon into the mush.

"You say that now." Vanora replied, starting into her own food. "Just wait till it's been a month and she your own personal shadow."

Isolde just laughed and the two women ate their breakfast in silence.

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**Author's Note:** Please let me know what you thought! I don't know what I'm going to put in the next chapter, but I'd love your ideas!


	6. In which the Lady learns to ride

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long wait!! In my defense I have been insanely busy with school, and I've started a few more fics, though i think this is the best. I finally got a stream of inspiration after listening to the King Arthur soundtrack that i finally got, and voila! Hopefully this will make up for the long wait. I've already gotten later parts of the story outlined, so now i just have to think of some filler chapters, since i doubt y'all would like a year-long gap between this chapter and the next. Anyways, sorry for the long wait and the long note, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own King Arthur

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A fortnight had gone by since Ambrosa, Juliana, and Isolde had arrived at Badon Hill. Two weeks that had passed surprisingly fast for the Woad girl as she explored and memorized the layout of the fort, had brief conversations with the knights, and spent time with Vanora, her children, and Juliana.

Dagonet had been particularly friendly, allowing her to come sit with him in the healing rooms and occasionally aide him. She was certainly no healer, that much was true not only at the fort, but in the forest as well. Her nature was too rough, not gentle enough, but one could not live in the forest without acquiring a somewhat substantial knowledge of the various herbs and remedies. Juliana was a much better pupil for the large man, but he made no rebuke towards the Woad, gently correcting her when she made a mistake.

Juliana herself had retained her shyness and would stay in their room most of the time, unless forced out of hiding by her mulish nursemaid. Even then, she stuck to Isolde like a shadow, never venturing far off. Vanora had laughed at that and had introduced her to her small herd of children. Afterwards the timid Roman had begun helping Vanora with the little monsters, she apparently liked children.

It was on this day that Juliana marched up to Isolde and nearly caused the elder girl to spew the swig of milk she had just taken all about the surrounding area.

"Will you teach me to ride today?"

Isolde barely managed to swallow the warm liquid with only a bit of spluttering and coughing. "What?"

"You promised you would teach me to ride a horse. Neither of us are doing anything today, the sun is shining, and it would be a perfect day for you to teach me to ride." She said with a rare show of obstinacy.

"Very well, if you are sure, Ambrosa has no problem with it, and we can find you a horse to use, I will begin teaching you to ride." Isolde conceded, knowing that after the first couple of falls the girl would probably knock all notions of riding out of her head.

Juliana's face lit up in a brilliant smile and she grabbed Isolde's arm in a surprisingly tight grasp and dragged her towards the stables.

"Wait, what about Ambrosa?" Isolde asked suspiciously, not wanting to get on the bad side of the fearsome woman.

"Oh she doesn't mind, if she had a problem with it she would have said so in the carriage."

Isolde frowned and tried to recall the conversation, she was nearly certain the old woman had indeed had a problem with the idea of her charge riding a horse.

By this time the Roman girl had dragged her into the stable, where she abruptly let go of her arm and waited.

All thoughts of Ambrosa left Isolde's mind and she felt her body relax as she breathed in the soothing scent of the horses. She hadn't been in a stable since she was a child, but the smell of hay and horses was just as she remembered.

"What about this one?" Juliana's voice interrupted her thoughts. She was standing in front of the first stall and peering in at the animal with wide eyes. Isolde walked over to join her.

"No, he'd be far too much for you to handle." She said, allowing her eyes to roam over the handsome grey stallion that was contently munching on his bedding. "You'll need to start on something easier, a gelding if we can find one, a mare if we must thought they tend to have temperament problems."

Juliana was looking at her with confusion. Isolde sighed.

"Mares are the female horses, stallions," She gestured at the horse in front of them. "are the male horses."

"What about geldings?"

"They're, well," She paused, unsure of how to explain it to the clueless girl. "They are male horses who have been castrated."

"Oh." Juliana said, flushing brightly.

Isolde began moving through the poorly lit building, inspecting the horses as she passed them. So far she had only found mares and stallions, all of which would be too difficult for the girl to start on. Then, as she reached the last stall, she found what she was looking for.

He was a small gelding, not very impressive to look at. His coat was shaggy and bay, his dark mane and tail were knotted and had brambles stuck in them. His feet looked as though they could use a trim and weren't shod. However, his eyes were kind and he seemed like a friendly creature.

"Juliana, go see if Jols is outside and ask him to join us would you?"

She nodded and scurried away in search of the man while Isolde stepped inside the dirty stall, extending a hand toward the small horse and keeping her eyes down as she slowly moved in his direction. He eyed her warily but edged towards her hand, sniffing it curiously before nudging the appendage, looking for a treat. She smiled softly and stepped up to him, leaning down and blowing on his nose, straightening after he exhaled in her face. She ran a hand over his forehead and down his neck, on to his front legs, his back, and down his hind legs while he stood calmly. Yes, he would make a good riding horse for the girl.

As she returned to his head Juliana reappeared in the stables, Jols following her.

"Yes milady?" He asked as he wiped his sweaty brow on his dirty smock, seeming a bit surprised to see her standing in the middle of the un-mucked stall.

"Would anyone mind if I were to use this horse?" Isolde asked, running a hand over the gelding's neck.

"No milady, I think not, that's Fyore, he's just a packhorse."

"Good, and do you have a few brushes, and some old tack I could borrow? Just a bridle and an extra set of long reins would be fine."

"Of course milady, but if you don't mind me asking, what do you need them for?" He looked confused.

Isolde just smiled, "Lady Juliana wishes to learn to ride."

His eyebrows rose but he just responded with an, "Of course, milady." And went off to retrieve the requested items.

"Why do we need brushes?" Juliana asked as she leaned against the stall door.

Isolde smirked. "If you're going to learn to ride, then you will also learn to care for the horse. I'll not have any student of mine come into a stable and expect a horse to be waiting groomed and tacked for them. Here, join me." She held the door open as the other girl ducked into the stall and laughed at the disgusted look that appeared seconds later.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt you, might get you a bit dirty but that's all right."

Juliana didn't look convinced, and seemed a bit frightened of the horse as he leaned towards her.

"Hold out you hand to him, palm up and flat." Isolde instructed softly, bringing Juliana's arm close enough to the gelding so that he could sniff it. "Don't let yourself feel nervous or afraid, he'll be able to feel it and then he'll get jumpy."

Juliana gulped but stopped shaking and forced herself to relax.

"There you go, now here, run your hand over him."

She did as instructed, smiling when the horse lost interest and went back to eating.

Jols returned a few minutes later with the tack and brushes.

"Will you be needing any help, my ladies?" He asked, gesturing at the equipment.

"No, we'll be quite all right. Thank you Jols." Isolde said, reaching under the door for the brushes as Juliana petted Fyore.

"Lesson Number One." Isolde said, handing Juliana a worn down brush. "Brushing your horse. You should start at the top of his neck and then continue down to his chest and legs, and then on to his back and hind legs, always brushing in the direction the hair grows." She demonstrated on his right ride with the other brush.

Once his coat was freed from dirt, grime, and loose hair, she turned to the Roman girl. "All right, you do the other side." Juliana set her jaw but gamely attacked Fyore's matted hair, using both hands to brush the gunk out of his coat until Isolde let her stop.

The Woad then picked up a metal object that was slightly curved at one end. "This is a pick, you use it to get dried mud and rocks out of his feet, but don't touch the long triangle in the middle of his foot, it's sensitive." She ran a hand down the gelding's right fore leg, pinching lightly above his fetlock and grabbing his hoof when he lifted it. Isolde gestured for Juliana to watch and showed her the triangle.

After cleaning out the hooves on his right legs she handed the tool to Juliana.

The Roman copied Isolde's motions but had a bit of trouble getting the gelding to raise his feet and required assistance with holding the heavy hooves up.

Isolde was slightly surprised that the younger girl was not complaining and hadn't quit yet. Sweat was already boring down the Roman's face, but she kept on.

"Last thing," Isolde said, holding up a bone comb. "I'm sure you know how to use this. I'll get his tail and you get his mane. It won't hurt him if you accidentally pull some hair out, so don't worry."

Juliana accepted the smooth object and set to work straightening out Fyore's tangled mane. It took the girls a good ten minutes before both the mane and tail were fairly combed through because of all the tangles and brambles.

"There now, that wasn't so bad was it?" Isolde teased as Juliana wiped the sweat out of her eyes.

She stepped out of the musty stall for a moment, grabbing the bridle from where Jols had set it on a nearby post.

"This is a bridle." She said, holding the leather piece of equipment out for Juliana to inspect. "I'll put it on this time, but you will be responsible from here after, so watch carefully."

Juliana stepped closer and observed Isolde as she slipping the main body of the bridle over Fyore's head, pushing a finger into his mouth when he didn't open it for the bit. After the metal bar was firmly set in the groove at the back of the gelding's mouth, the Woad pull the leather band over his ears and buckled the throat latch.

Once she finished checking the straps she handed the reins to Juliana. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, but what about a saddle?"

Isolde shook her head as she opened the door. "You will be a better rider if you learn to ride bareback."

Juliana look a bit nervous but followed her out of the stall, keeping a tight grip on the reins. She gasped as she was jerked back, the gelding not moving.

Isolde glanced behind her and almost laughed. The poor Roman girl was tugging on the reins with all her strength while Fyore dug his hooves in and refused to budge.

"Maybe I should lead him this time."

Juliana relinquished her hold on the reins in exchange for the extra leather rope that Isolde had been holding. She watched as Isolde moved to the horse's left side and clicked slightly while keeping a loose grip on the reins and walking beside him. Juliana joined her on her other side and together they exited the stable and into the busy street.

"My ladies!" A voice suddenly called out over the noise.

The two turned to look at the man who was shouting for them. Both nearly groaning when Lancelot's curly-haired head was seen coming towards them through the crowd. His face lit up with a roguish grin as he reached them.

"And what might two fine ladies such as yourselves be doing with this sorry creature?" He asked, gesturing towards Fyore.

"Isolde is teaching me to ride." Juliana mumbled almost incoherently, her eyes stuck to the ground.

Lancelot threw back his head and guffawed, black curls bouncing. He constrained himself to chortling when he caught sight of Isolde's glare.

"Forgive me, my ladies." He said, not looking the least bit sorry. "Allow me to accompany you in order to make it up to you."

Isolde muttered something along the lines of it being a worse offense, but he either chose to ignore it or did not hear it.

"I assure you my lord, it is not necessary." Isolde stated firmly as Lancelot began walking beside them in the direction of the gate.

He looked at her, that gloating grin still plastered onto his face. "Oh but my lady, surely you have realized that the only place suitable for such an activity lies beyond the gates."

She nodded in agreement.

"Then my lady, how were you supposing to get past those gates?" He asked, smile widening when he saw her frown.

She did not say anything, mad at herself for not realizing that obstacle.

* * *

They passed through the gates with little difficulty, the guards not daring to question Lancelot.

The arrogant knight then proceeded to lead them to a small meadow a little ways off the road.

"Thank you, my lord." Isolde said, nodding curtly as she took the long rein from Juliana and attached it to one of the bit rings.

Lancelot merely nodded his head mockingly and retreated to a nearby hillock, fully prepared to observe an amusing spectacle.

"Are you wearing leggings?" Isolde asked, turning to Juliana.

The Roman girl nodded.

"Good, at least he won't get a show when you fall off."

Juliana paled a bit. "_When_ I fall off?"

Isolde nodded. "I will be very surprised if you don't today, and even if that happens you will fall sometime soon. It happens to everyone. You cannot be a good rider unless you have fallen, for you will always be afraid of falling until you do."

Juliana gulped and nodded. "Will it, will it hurt?"

Isolde shrugged. "It depends. Just don't worry about it."

She led Juliana to Fyore's left side. "This is the side you mount on unless for some reason you need to mount on his other side. Place your hands on his back and bend your left leg."

Juliana jumped a bit when Isolde took hold of her leg, bending it at a sharper angle. "Don't worry, I'm giving you a leg-up. On the count of three I want you to jump. One. Two. Three." Juliana hopped on her right foot and Isolde used her momentum to lift her up and onto Fyore's back, quickly catching hold of her to steady her as she began to slide off the other side.

"Well, how does it feel?" Isolde asked as Juliana sat as still as she possibly could, hands tightly holding onto the gelding's mane.

"Different, it feels different." Juliana said, nearly shrieking when Fyore stamped one of his hooves.

"Easy there, it's okay. Just relax, sit like a sat of potatoes so he can feel you, that a girl. Now grip right here with your legs and keep holding on to his mane."

The Roman girl did as instructed.

"Ready to move?" Isolde asked, taking hold of the long rein once more.

"Yes, no, maybe?" Juliana said, looking unsure.

"Don't worry, I'll just walk you around for now. Hold tight."

She took a step forward, cuing Fyore to follow her lead. Around the meadow they went, slowly so that Juliana could get a feel for the horse's movements. As they passed Lancelot, Isolde noted that two others, Gawain and Galahad, had joined him sitting on the hill. She ignored them as they called out passing comments.

Nearly half an hour of walking later Juliana finally decided that she wanted to go a bit faster. Not for the first time was Isolde thankful that she was in good shape.

"Tighten up your legs and hands." Isolde instructed as Juliana had become a bit lax during the walking. "Cantering is much smoother than trotting, but you're not ready for that yet. I will warn you, trotting is very bumpy so you'll need to be gripping with your legs."

Juliana nodded. Isolde checked her position and then started walking faster, clicking to the horse. He broke into a slow trot, making Isolde jog beside him. She didn't need to look to know that Juliana was bouncing around on his back.

"Hold on with your calves!" She called, urging the horse to go a bit faster.

The answering shriek and thud, accompanied by laughter from the knights told her that Juliana had fallen. She slowed Fyore to a walk and turned him around, heading back to where Juliana was sprawled on the ground.

"That wasn't so bad now was it?" Isolde asked with a grin as she stood over the groaning girl. She reached down a hand to help her up.

"I suppose not." Juliana admitted, standing shakily and rubbing her backside,

"All right then, up you get." Isolde said, motioning for the other girl to remount.

"But, but I just fell off!"

"Yes, which is why you're going to get back on. It's one of the unwritten laws of horsemanship. When you fall off, you get right back on, otherwise they say you won't ever get back on again."

Juliana grimaced but did as she was asked, putting her hands on the horse's back on lifting her left leg.

At the count of three she jumped and was boosted back onto Fyore's back. And then they began again, first walking and then trotting in both directions. Juliana fell twice more in the next hour, but by then she was fairly proficient at keeping her seat.

"You did well." Isolde said, finally letting her student dismount. "Tomorrow we will see how you do without being led."

Juliana stood on shaking legs but looked satisfied with herself.

Scattered applause could be heard coming nearer.

"Not bad my lady." Lancelot admitted with grudging approval. "But I must ask, if you can teach, how well can you ride?"

Isolde raised an eyebrow at the underlying challenge.

"I ride decently, thank you."

Juliana turned begging eyes to her. "Oh please Isolde, I'd love to see you ride!"

Having four pairs of eyes egging her on she groaned and unfastened the long rein from the bridle, thrusting it into Lancelot's hands.

"Very well then, someone give me a leg up." She said, turning and placing her hands on Fyore and bending her left leg. She gave a startled yelp when two large hands grasped her by the waist and easily lifted her onto Fyore's back. She stared at Lancelot's cheeky grin with wide eyes before coming to her senses and glaring at him, suddenly furious. He just laughed and motioned for her to begin.

Isolde nearly growled at him before wheeling Fyore a bit more harshly than she had meant and urging him into a slow canter to warm him up a bit. She closed her eyes as the wind caressed her face, pulling her hair from its bindings and whipping it out behind her. She leaned with the gelding as he turned at the far end of the meadow, her legs molded to his sides, guiding him, her hands nestled lightly in his mane, the reigns tied loosely out of the way.

She squeezed him gently, urging him on as they drew closer to the on-lookers. She was one with him, and he with her. For the first time in a long while she felt free.

As they came around again she applied more pressure and he willingly sprang into a gallop, hooves tearing into the soft ground, mane whipping back into her eyes. Juliana and the knights a mere blur as they flew by.

A few more times around and she decided to stop. Fyore's coat was darkened with sweat and there was lather on his chest and foam at his mouth. Obviously he wasn't exercised as much as he needed to be.

She turned him back towards the knights, and a wicked smile formed on her face. Still at a full gallop she charged towards them, the distance growing shorter with every passing second. At the last moment she signaled for him to stop, and they slid closer and closer to the suddenly nervous looking men, finally halted mere inches from Lancelot's paling face.

Everything was silent for a moment save for Fyore's heavy breathing. Then Juliana began to giggle.

"Well," Gawain said, finding his tongue. "I guess you really can ride."

Isolde grinned and swung herself from the gelding's back. "I guess I can." She patted her horse.

Lancelot opened his mouth to say something, but was suddenly interrupted by an angry shout.

Both girls visibly paled as the approaching figures grew closer and the shouting became discernable.

"I thought you said she wouldn't mind!" Isolde hissed at Juliana whose expression, a mixture of guilt and fear, would have been comical in another situation.

Ambrosa was storming towards them, Arthur just behind her.

"Uh, oh." Juliana gulped, inching closer to Isolde as the furious nursemaid approached.

"What do you think you are doing?!" The older woman was screaming as she hastened in their direction. "The both of you! You're absolutely filthy! Your clothes are ruined! And you could have been injured! Just think of what you father would say!"

The knights smirked as Ambrosa yelled at the two younger girls, but their smiles were soon wiped off their faces as the woman turned to them. "And _you_! Why in God's name did you let them out of the stables with such a crazy idea, much less out of the gates! And you just stand there watching when they could have been killed! Shame!"

She took hold of both girls by the backs of their dresses and marshaled them in the direction of the fort, scolding them severely the entire time.

"I was not expecting that." Galahad said after a moment.

"That is why you should never get on a woman's bad side." Arthur agreed as he began walking back to the gates, his men following. "Still, she is correct, it was a bad idea. Why on earth did you allow them to continue?"

"Trust me, she wasn't taking no for an answer." Lancelot grumbled. "Besides, who am I to deny a lovely woman?"

"And she _is_ a good rider." Gawain put in. "Surprisingly good in fact."

"Yes, we saw her little stunt when she stopped." Arthur admitted, a trace of a smile on his face. "I must say, Lancelot, the look on your face was rather humorous."

Lancelot just mumbled something unintelligible and glared at the ground as Gawain and Galahad laughed.

* * *

Isolde and Juliana huddled together on their bed, their wet hair slightly chilling their bodies after the baths Ambrosa had forced them to take.

Juliana was moving gingerly, her thighs, back, and rear-end already sore from the riding and falls.

"So," She ventured, chewing the tough bread she held in her hands (Ambrosa had forbidden either of them dinner, but Two and Three had snuck in a loaf of bread and warm apple cider). "Shall we continue tomorrow?"

Isolde glanced at her incredulously. "And risk Ambrosa's anger?"

Juliana nodded.

The Woad looked at her, a wicked grin on her face. "Definitely."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Let me know what you think, and Happy New Year!


	7. In which things become deadly

**Author's Note:** Ai! I'm so sorry! I've actually had about 3/4 of this finished for a month now, but I had to send my computer in and forgot. Eep! But I do rather like it, though be warned their are a lot of pov changes!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own King Arthur, just my OCs

* * *

The market at Badon Hill was busy and bustling, crowds stretching from one end to the other, shouting and bargaining and animal sounds filling the air. It was the perfect place for a covert exchange.

Isolde and Juliana wove their way through the market, flanked by a few guards. In the weeks since Isolde had first thrown her up on a horse, the younger girl had been progressing in her riding, and was now able to walk confidently on her own, and even trot a bit if she was feeling particularly brave. Isolde was secretly proud of her new friend, and was amused by her determination to impress her teacher. Juliana had been going to the stables everyday to take care of her new horse, even on the days when she couldn't ride.

"Oh look, Isolde!" Juliana's soft voice barely reached her ears over the uproar of the market. "Aren't those pretty?"

Isolde followed Juliana's pointed finger, her eyes lighting upon a stall with numerous trinkets and simple pieces of jewelry.

"They're nice." Isolde told her. "You go see if you can find something that catches your eye, I'm going to try to find a new winter cloak."

"All right!" The younger girl exclaimed jubilantly, her excitement causing her to forget Ambrosa's warning for the two to stay together.

"I'll meet you back here in a little bit." Isolde called to her as she bounded off to the jewelry merchant's stall.

As soon as her companion and guards were lost in the crowds of people, Isolde began to swiftly maneuver through market-goers. She reached the cloak stand much sooner than she would have with the Roman girl's constant interruptions, and started to peruse the multi-colored selection. Her eyes briefly caught those of a farmer who was also examining the merchandise, and she discretely brushed past him. Soon after the man left the stall, a new woolen cloak on his arm and two small rolls of parchment tucked into his pouch.

Isolde continued to look at the cloaks, running her fingers over the thick fabrics, remaining longest by the blues and the greens.

"Blue would suit you best, m'lady."

Isolde spun around, startled, only to find herself looking into Lancelot's amused face. She was angry at herself for not noticing his approach but kept her expression neutral as she curtsied slightly.

The knight merely smiled and bowed his head a bit before walking around her and pulling a dark blue material from the piles.

"If m'lady would be so kind as to take a suggestion from a simple knight, I believe this would be perfect to match those lovely eyes of yours."

Isolde nearly raised her brows in disbelief; the man was flirting with her. Here was a knight who had probably tried to kill her on more than one occasion, and now he was flirting.

"Very well, Sir Knight," She conceded with a nearly coy smile. "The lady shall take your suggestion to heart."

She went to take the cloak from his hands, but he stopped her, and with a gallant air said: "Lady, how could I call myself a man if I were to allow the lady to buy her own things?"

The smile immediately disappeared from Isolde's face.

"Sir, do not patronize me. I know that you earn very little during your service here, and you need your coins more than I do, particularly when I have more than I could ever use."

She successful removed the material from Lancelot's grasp and, turning away from his gaping face, exchanged coins with the merchant. Seeing Juliana looking around for her, she bid the knight farewell and rejoined her friend as they departed from the busy area.

* * *

Guinevere stood just within the shadows of the trees. She and some scouts had been waiting and watching since dawn for the messenger to arrive from the fort. In the weeks since Adraestia had departed they had been using several different forms of communication in order to relay upcoming troop movements and expansion developments. Dreya had been doing her job well, and already the Woads were becoming more successful in their attacks. This time the link was Radagast, one of their people who lived as a farmer on the outskirts of the fort.

A distinctive bird call drew her attention to the path beyond the forest, where a cloaked man was slowly making his way towards them. He entered the wood at long last, the neutral covers of his clothing helping him to blend in with the trees. He came up beside her and mutely handed her a small leather pouch before turning and heading back the way he had come.

Guinevere hastily opened the pouch and withdrawing the two notes. The first was for Merlin. It indicated the imminent arrival of an important visitor from Rome, and a feast, which was to be held in his honor. She retied the note and handed it to one of the scouts, who immediately took off for the main village to give the note to Merlin.

The second note was a letter for her, detailing the time that had passed since the last correspondence. Guinevere found herself smiling at her cousin's comments on the knights and the Roman girl she was staying with. As she finished the letter she folded it and slipped it into a pouch at her side. She would have to wait for her father's answer to send anything back to Dreya.

* * *

"You're sure?" Arthur's green eyes bore into those of the man in front of him.

The man dressed in skins and leather bowed his head and repeated what he had said before. "Yes, m'lord. There is definitely a leak at the fort. Mere hours ago a scout returned to the main village in a hurry, bringing a message from the fort concerning the arrival of Lord Honorius. They've already planned a way in which to deal with him."

Arthur paced back and forth in front of the fire in his quarters. A spy, in the fort, someone they knew.

"How do they plan to 'deal with him'?"

"Poison, m'lord. They are going to lace the ceremonial goblet he carries with a deadly poison."

Arthur sighed. This was something he would have to discuss with the knights. He pulled some silver coins from the purse at his belt and handed them to the man, his own spy in the Woad camp. "Hurry back before they notice, and try to find out more on the situation."

"Yes m'lord, thank you." The man said as he bowed to the Roman commander.

"Call the knights to the round table." Arthur instructed Jols as he swept out of the room.

* * *

Isolde waited by the window in her room as Juliana bathed behind a privacy wall. The dark shape of a bird appeared on the horizon, and soon her cousin's favorite hunting hawk was silently speeding up to the open space in the wall, a slip of paper tucked into a pouch on her foot.

"Greetings, Khami." She whispered as she stroked the bird's soft feathers and removed the parchment. She rewarded the bird with a few scraps of meat that she had saved from her supper.

"Did you say something?" Juliana asked as she entered the main room, running a cloth over her wet hair.

"No, just thinking aloud." Isolde said with a smile, concealing the paper within her hand.

"Oh, all right. Do you want to see what I got at the market?" The younger girl asked with a brilliant smile.

Isolde felt herself smiling back. "Of course."

"Wait here!" Juliana commanded as she darted out of the room.

Isolde took the opportunity to examine the paper. It contained an outline for a plan to attack the lord's carriage and poison a ceremonial goblet he would be bringing to present to Arthur. This would either kill one or the other, or throw the fort into chaos, with blame falling on the lord for attempting to kill the commander.

She tossed the note into the fire just before the Roman girl returned to the room, her arms laden with parcels and clothes.

"These are for you." She said, placing several of the items into Isolde's hands.

The Woad looked at her in surprise. She had not even thought to give her anything, yet Juliana seemed happy to be giving her presents at every opportunity. She glanced down at the pieces of jewelry in her lap. The necklace was silver, interwoven in a chain-link design. The metal clinked together pleasantly, it felt cool in her fingers as she held it up to inspect. It was intricate, yet simple, and she was pleased by the selections. There were also several bracelets of thin strands woven together, and a slender belt to match the necklace.

"Juliana, these are wonderful." Isolde said softly, meaning every word.

The other girl smiled at her. "I tried to pick something to suit your tastes. You seem to like things that are simple yet elegant. And don't thank me, just consider it payment for teaching me to ride and for the tack and horse."

Isolde laughed and held out a hand.

"Very well miss. I believe we have reached an accord." She said while trying not to laugh.

"I believe we have." Julianca conceded, shaking her hand firmly.

The two burst into giggles just as Ambrosa opened the door.

* * *

Arthur watched as his knights entered the room, swiftly making their way to their designated spots.

"Knights," he began as they looked to him for their reason of being there. "It has come to my attention that we have a spy in our midst."

Whispers and discussion immediately spread thru the room, and Arthur had to wait for many a moment to continue.

"The Woads know of the coming arrival of Lord Honorius, and plan to poison a ceremonial goblet that will be used during the feast."

"But who could be a spy here?" Galahad's voice rose above the others.

"I don't know." Arthur admitted wearily. He glanced around the table, his eyes lighting on Tristan last. "Tristan?"

The scout looked up at the mention of his name.

"That girl, Isolde. She is the most likely person."

There were several outbursts from the knights, Kay and Dagonet in particular. Tristan waited until Arthur had silenced them.

"It would make the most sense. Her story is just a little too perfect, we didn't start having these kind of difficulties until just after she arrived, and I have never seen a Roman lady act as she does."

Arthur sighed heavily. "Lancelot?"

The dark knight looked uncomfortable and reluctant, but he answered dutifully.

"Tristan has a point, but I find it hard to believe."

"Very well, Tristan, what do you suggest?"

The scout leaned back in his seat and appeared to ponder for a moment.

"We inform her that she will be given the position of cupbearer for this banquet. It has always been more of a ceremonial position here, so it won't seem too suspicious. If she refuses to drink the first cup, if the Woads do not attack, or if there is no poison we will know that she is the spy."

"But what if something goes wrong, or if she is innocent and is poisoned?" Gawain asked.

Tristan glanced at him before returning his gaze to Arthur.

"It is highly likely that she is the spy. Also, the Woads don't know that we know of their plans, so she wouldn't think it a problem to change the original plot."

Arthur wasn't happy with the situation, there were too many risks involved, and the chance that she innocent and could be harmed gnawed at him, but it was the best they had.

"Very well. I will inform Lady Isolde of her position tonight. I pray that you are wrong, Tristan."

And with that the knights were dismissed, leaving Arthur alone. He sat at his seat for a while before finally standing and heading down one of the hallways to where Juliana and Isolde were staying.

He met Lady Ambrosa just as she was about to enter the room, and informed her that he needed to speak with the Lady Isolde.

Ambrosa opened the doors, allowing the sounds of girlish giggles to escape into the cold hallway, and presenting Arthur with the sight of the two young women laughing together on the bed. At that moment, with the sight of her laughing there with nothing malicious about her features, only the innocence of a girl, he found it difficult to believe Tristan's claims about the dark-haired lady.

"My ladies!" Ambrosa's sharp, disapproving voice shattered the mood, sending the girls tumbling off the bed and into deep curtseys.

"My lord." They chorused.

"Lady Isolde," Arthur began. "Would you do me and our guests the honor of being our cupbearer on the night of the coming feast?"

For a moment he thought he saw a shrewd, calculating look cross her pretty face, but it was quickly replaced with a charming smile.

"Of course, my lord, I would be delighted an honored to do so."

He studied her, trying to determine her thoughts, but then bowed and began to leave.

"I will have Vanora explain everything you need to know."

"Yes, my lord." She said demurely as the door shut.

Juliana immediately jumped at her. "You get to be cupbearer! It's such an honor!"

Isolde managed to smile, though her heart was racing from a surge of fear and anticipation.

"How about we put these away for the night?" She asked, gesturing at the forgotten pile of items left on the bed.

"Oh, very well." Juliana said, gathering her things in her arms and absently saying that she was going to see if one of her dresses had been cleaned yet.

Isolde waited until the door had closed once again, before quietly calling Guinevere's hawk down from her perch in a nearby tree. While the bird waited on the window, she quickly penned a short note that read: garden-noon-ADREYA. It was brief, but that would be enough to tell Guinevere that it was urgent. She quickly rolled it up and slipped it into the pouch on Khami's leg, then sent her flying back to her mistress.

* * *

The next day, as noon approached, Isolde entered the fort's main herbal garden and sat on a bench hidden within an alcove and bordered by a small gathering of trees. She leaned back against the branches and shut her eyes, breathing deeply of the air.

"Hello Guin." She murmured to the trees.

"What's the problem, Dreya?" Her cousin asked, equally quiet.

"I think they know."

"What?" Came Guinevere's startled hiss.

"Arthur has ordered me to be the cupbearer for tomorrow night's feast. I'm sure you can guess the implications of that."

Though she could not see her, Isolde could picture her cousin's face. Her eyes narrowed and lips pursed in thought, her forehead wrinkled.

"What do you think we should do, Guin? If Arthur knows, and the cup is not poisoned I will be branded a spy and executed, and all our plans will be for naught."

"Who cares about the plans, Dreya? This is your life at stake here."

"I know, but what if there's a way to make it seem like I was certainly innocent by using the situation?"

Guinevere was quiet for a long moment. "It's terribly risky, Dreya. We're using an extract from the Death Cap mushroom. The number of people who know there's a cure, albeit a dangerous one, are very few, and there's no guarantee that you receive the antidote in time."

"Dagonet would know the cure." Isolde said, feeling guilty. "He's a fantastic healer, and he has a bit of a soft spot for Juliana and I."

For a moment she thought she felt her cousin's hand brush her shoulder.

"If you're sure."

"Yes." Isolde said firmly, though inside she was shaking like a leaf battered in the wind. "This way suspicion will be thrown off of me and it will cause distrust amongst their ranks."

"Very well." Guinevere muttered, and then she was gone, blending into the trees along the edge of the garden, only a whisper of her remaining.

Isolde stayed in the garden a while longer, breathing deeply of the clear air and wishing to be roaming the forest once more instead of being trapped in the stinking fort.

* * *

Guinevere stood passively in the woods that bordered the main road to the fort. According to the scout's reports there were no legions or knights in the area, and the escort itself had few guards, which meant that Arthur had contacted the Roman pig and they would allow events to unfold.

'Very well,' she thought grimly as she notched an arrow to the string of her bow, 'let's see what you think of this.'

She raised her bow as a signal, preparing the men in the raiding party, and then she released it, sending waves of Woads out of the trees screaming war cries and swinging weapons. One of the younger warriors, a lad named Finn, darted past her, a small flask held delicately in his hand, it's deadly contents kept save by iron and leather. He raced through the battlefield and to the back of the Roman's carriage, where the trunk containing the goblet lay unguarded.

Guinevere watched carefully as he opening the casing and removed the stopper from the flask, before slowly pouring the clear liquid into the goblet and around the rim, making sure there was no sign of tampering before replacing the beaten gold and sprinting back to the comfort of the woods.

"It is done, m'lady." He said panting, holding the empty flask out to her.

She took it from him and stared at it, her jaw clenched, praying to the goddess that her cousin be kept safe.

* * *

Isolde tried to steady her breathing as Juliana nimbly fastened her new necklace around her neck, the hawk charm that she always wore safely stowed in her trunk lest a certain knight discover it.

The Roman girl had insisted on dressing her, and she was too nervous to turn her down, though she had to admit that the girl knew what she was doing.

Though not one to pay much attention to her dress, Isolde rather liked the effect of the deep green gown. The silver chains Juliana had bought her days before subtly sat upon her person, not overly glamorous, but something that would gently draw the eyes. Her hair had been left to flow down her back in gently waves, of course, getting them to look so neat had been nothing short of miracles, her head could still feel the pull of Ambrosa's comb.

All in all she felt like an elegant, but over-dressed cow being led to the slaughterhouse.

"Ready Isolde?" Juliana's bubbly voice asked from the door, her own scarlet gown complimenting the gold of her hair and of her jewels.

"I suppose." She replied, smiling at the Roman and following her out of the door.

* * *

Arthur and his knights sat tensely in the banquet hall. They were not in their normal room with the round table, but in a hall used for special occasions, there were just too many people for the other. Two longer tables stood perpendicular to a shorter table at the end. At one of these tables sat all of the knights, each tense and fidgeting. At the table across from them would sit the lords and their wives that had come from Rome and the nearby estates, and it was hear that Ambrosa, Juliana, and Isolde would be seated. Meanwhile Arthur, the highest dignitaries, and the guest of honor sat at the small table.

Eventually the hall began to fills, the guests taking their seats and a general noise filling the stone room. Platters were served and wine was poured, but none ate yet for the ceremony of the cupbearer had yet to take place.

Arthur stood from his seat and waited for the almost immediate silence.

"My lords and ladies," he began. "The honor of the cupbearer has been awarded to the Lady Isolde, recently come to us from Rome."

Isolde stood to a polite smattering of applause and began her walk down the aisle between the tables. Each footstep seemed to echo in the quiet room, the knights watched her progress carefully. Finally she reached the high table.

Jols stepped forward with the pitcher that would be used at the table and Lord Honorius took the casket containing the goblet from his servant, removing the gaudy glass. He handed it to Arthur who in turn passed it to Jols, who filled it with deep, rich wine and then extended his hand, and the goblet to Isolde.

She waited for Arthur, just as Vanora had instructed.

"Lady Isolde, I extend this glass to you so that you might deem this cup worthy for our honored guests."

"My lord, I accept this cup and this duty." She recited, taking the goblet from Jols and holding it with barely trembling hands.

She could feel the knights' gazes burning into her as she slowly raised the cup to her lips and drank from it, the deadly taste of the Death Cap invisible amongst the potent flavor of the wine.

There was a long moment of silence in the hall. Out of the back of her eyes she could see the knights tensing and reaching for their weapons.

She looked Arthur in the eye and smiled sweetly.

"My lord, I deem that this goblet is safe."

Even as the words left her mouth her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she collapsed into an unmoving heap on the floor, her closed eyes and still barely open mouth nearly covered by her hair, the goblet bounced upon the stones a few times before rolling to a stop beneath the high table, it's mournful clanging over-powered by the chaos that suddenly swept through the room.


	8. In which there is a miracle

**Author's Note: **Wow has it been a long time! I'm really sorry, but I've been so busy with school! I have no life any more. Anyway, I'm not super happy with this chapter, but it finally gets started into the growing relationship between the two, so maybe that will make up for it. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own King Arthur, only my characters and storyline.

* * *

Tristan nearly felt his heart stop as the woman who had stood so proudly in front of him collapsed into a crumpled pile in the middle of the floor. He barely heard the frantic screaming of the woman's companion, nor saw the glares many of his fellow knights sent his way as they rushed to try to bring control to the frantic nobles. He had been wrong? For the first time in all these years his intuition had failed him? And at what cost, the life of the girl who had so puzzled and intrigued him in the past weeks?

Dagonet stood hurriedly from beside him, not sparing him a glance, either of anger or pity, as he vaulted over the tables to get to the prone woman who was clutched in the arms of the sobbing Roman girl. He approached as fast as he dared, keeping mind of the blonde's hysterics.

"Lady Juliana, Juliana!" The girl looked up in shock, her body continuing to rock Isolde's back and forth, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I need you to let go of her." When she failed to comply he gently put a massive hand on her frail arm and tried to reason with her, all the while keeping his voice calm so as not to alarm her. "Listen to me, the more she is moved the faster the poison will spread through her body. I need to have a look at her to see what's wrong."

She nodded silently, hiccupping as she reluctantly handed her friend over to the large man.

Dagonet grimly inspected the woman in his arms. She was growing paler and her breathing was so shallow he nearly thought she was already gone. He pressed a finger to her slender neck, adjusting its position several times before finally finding her pulse.

"How bad is she?" Arthur had joined them after ordering the other knights to escort the guests out of the hall. Juliana and Ambrosa were already nearly out the door, the younger girl constantly looking back for her friend.

"It's not good, Arthur." Dagonet sighed, gently lifting one of her eyelids to assess her pupils. "Her breathing is already slowed considerably, as is her pulse, and it continues to decrease. Her pupil's are extremely dilated as well."

"Do you have any idea of what caused it?"

The large knight looked grim as he regarded his commander. "Due to the quickness of the effect and her symptoms, my best guess would be Death Cap, and a strong dosage of it, however it very well could be some infusion that the Woads have discovered."

Arthur frowned at the news, already knowing the ultimate answer to the question he asked next: "How long?"

Dagonet rocked back on his heels, carefully cradling her in his arms. "If she still lives by morning, and if it is indeed Death Cap, she will sleep for about three days. During that time the chill that takes her now will become a fever and she will slowly waste away and die.

The rest of the knights returned to the room, trying to stay out of Dagonet's way as he stood, moving her as little as possible as he kept her pressed to him.

"Is there no cure?" Arthur asked quietly.

"Not that I know of, but I will try. Surely the farmers or woodsmen know of something."

The large knight walked swiftly from the room in the direction of the healing quarters, his comrades watching his progress until he was lost from sight.

"Happy now, Tristan?" Galahad snarled into the silence.

The knight had not moved from his seat, still staring at the spot where Isolde had fallen to the ground.

"Leave him alone, all of you. It was a mistake, and we all have made plenty of those."

One by one the knights left the hall, many still glaring at their silent comrade.

Bors stopped by his chair long enough to growl out the words, "She better live, for your sake." Before sweeping from the room. In reality, the burly knight probably wouldn't have been able to actually kill the highly skilled scout, but the intent behind the words was all too clear.

Tristan remained in his seat for many hours. Finally he decided to rise, accidentally tipping his forgotten goblet over in the process. The fine wine spilt over the table, dripping onto the grey-stone floor and smattering like blood. He regarded it passively before exiting the hall with silent footsteps.

* * *

By the following morning there was a small crowd huddled in the spacious healing area. Dagonet had been up all night, working tirelessly to stabilize the girl's condition. In the meantime nearly all of the knights had eventually found their way to the building and had been left to amuse themselves. Ambrosa and Juliana had also joined them as the sun's rays announced the arrival of the new day.

Isolde lay on a pallet, looking almost as though she merely slept, save for the paleness of her face. Vanora sat in a chair beside her, constantly mopping her fevered brow with a damp cloth.

Arthur had issued a proclamation requesting that any who knew a cure to the Death Cap mushroom come forward, but thus far no one had, and their prospects looked grim. Throughout the day the knights stopped by to see if there had been in progress.

Juliana had taken over for Vanora when the older woman had to return to the tavern, and had not left her friend's side for the rest of the day.

"Do you think she'll make it?" Kay asked somberly from the doorway, his usually gay face grim, his red hair unkept.

Dagonet answered quietly. "If we don't find a cure, then no." He avoided looking at Juliana, who had gone extremely pale at his words.

Suddenly footsteps came pounding down the corridor, a dark headed boy, Gilly, the only child of Bors' who had been named, burst into the room.

"There's a man!" He cried. "A man who says he can cure the lady!"

All movement in the ward ceased at the boy's exclamation.

Dagonet leapt from his seat, surprisingly agilely for a man of his size. "Bring him here immediately. We have no time to waste!"

Gilly left and returned some minutes later, an old farmer in tow.

"What is this cure you speak of?" Arthur asked as the old man shifted nervously.

"It's just an old woodsmen's antidote, my lord." He rasped, twisting his cap between his hands. "An infusion of Bella Donna can cure the Death Cap."

Many in the room stared at the man but Dagonet appeared to consider the option. "A poison to counter a poison, it's risky, but possible."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, looking as though he wasn't too keen on the prospect.

"We have no other options, and we're out of time. Do you have any of the Bella Donna extract on you?" He asked the man.

The farmer nodded and produced a small vile. The healer knight took the bottle and poured it's contents into a bowl, following the man's instructions as he added a few crushed herbs and flower extracts until he had a pale green liquid. He moved to where Isolde was lying motionless and carefully opened her mouth, using one of his fingers to take some of the infusion from the bowl and dab a few drops on her tongue. The occupants of the room waited several terse minutes until suddenly her breathing grew deeper and her eyes opened blearily. She gave a small groan and tried to lift her arm, but dropped it almost immediately, her strength depleted.

There were many smiles and breaths of relief while she looked around in confusion.

"I thank you must assuredly." Arthur said, smiling at the farmer and leading him from the room.

Juliana was in tears again, her emotional state completely over-come by the events.

"Tristan." Dagonet said suddenly. Everyone looked in his direction in shock, not knowing when he had entered the room. "While I do not blame you." There were a few coughs in the room and glares. "It was the Woads who put the poison in the goblet, not Tristan." The large knight continued, presenting his fellows with a fearsome glare of his own. "I think it would be appropriate if you aided me in restoring the lady to health. Perhaps then you will see that she is not in the position you thought, without having to resort to other methods." He didn't outright say the actual reason for which Isolde had been made cupbearer in front of the other women, though he needn't have feared for Ambrosa was too concerned with comforting her charge to listen, and Juliana was beyond coherency.

The scout gave a sharp nod of his head and left the room, and several of the knights seemed at least somewhat satisfied with Tristan's 'punishment'.

Dagonet returned to Isolde's side knelt beside her.

"How are you feeling, my lady?" He asked, placing one of his large hands on her forhead.

She winced and groaned softly as she tried to talk, her words melting into a fit of coughing. Vanora hastily brought over a cup of water and she drank it slowly.

"I feel sort of strange." She mumbled when she had recovered enough to talk. "Really weak…" Her eyes rolled back suddenly and she collapsed partway onto the bed before Dagonet caught her.

"Easy." He said softly and looked to the others. "We should leave Lady Isolde to rest, Tristan, stay with her."

The room slowly emptied until none but Tristan and Isolde remained. The young woman lay still upon her bed, her skin still pale and her body still weak. The scout moved quietly to her side and sat in the abandoned chair, watching her silently.

* * *

A/N: I hope the next chapter will be out soon, but I'm trying to update a chapter for all of my other stories first, so no promises. One thing I can say however, is that they will be growing a bit closer to each other in the next update, and within the next few Isolde's time as a spy will be coming to an end, as will one of the knights.


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